Partner Action
by TheDonutMistress
Summary: Post RE6. SPOILERS! Ada's new job was no different from jobs she had in the past: retrieve a sample of the latest virus. It was never as simple as just grabbing a vial and taking off, was it? The mission was to get a LIVE sample... That's exactly what her new boss is after now: Piers. But is it just about the virus? Ada/Piers partnership. Old partners will reunite. Ensemble fic.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: The Resident Evil characters, etc. all belong to Capcom. Just borrowing them for a bit. How I wish I owned you, Piers... I would never let you go. Or let you wear clothing.**

**Basic Summary: Ah, hell, I hate doing this. Piers has been saved by Ada, but surely, it can't just have been out of the goodness of her heart...? Seems she has a use for him, or maybe it's just her new employer that does...**

**Author's Note: Seems I'm not the only one who played through Ada's campaign (and Chris's, obviously) and went, 'she totally could've saved Piers after the events of the game'. That being said, I KNOW mine isn't the only story out there with Ada saving Piers as a big part of the plot. Feel free to let me know of other similar works and I'll happily list them here. I don't want it ever to seem I'm ripping someone off. Plus, I'd like to read the fine work of others who came to the same AWESOME conclusion I did. :)**

**Also, fellow fanciers of Ada n Piers interaction, please visit fyeahpiersxada . tumblr You'll have to remove any spaces and put the dot-com at the end, of course. Many thanks for Meowface20 for mentioning this fic there!  
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**Pairings: Well, Ada and Piers will be spending a fair amount of time together... I honestly haven't decided how far I'm going to take that, though. Some mild Jake/Sherry is likely when they come around. Chris/Vodka bottle? Not sure about that one yet, either.  
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**Feedback is very much appreciated.  
**

* * *

New job... Considering who she'd just been _hired_ by, Ada didn't figure that description would ring very true. It would be interesting, to say the least, so she accepted the offer with some coy remark about her schedule suddenly being wide open. But there was still too much of the old to be dealt with before anyone involved in the world of bioterrorism—in the shadows or out in the open—could call their next job or mission or assignment _new. _

It sure wasn't the first time Ada had been asked to retrieve a sample of the next _new_ virus, after all.

She had the coordinates for the pickup. The target was at the underwater facility—oops, "oil field"—where Carla had been conducting experiments. Redfield had infiltrated the complex a few hours before; she knew that from listening in on BSAA communications. The shit had hit the fan somewhere along the way and contact had been lost, but the great Chris Redfield seemed as likely to die in the line of duty as Leon.

Better watch out for him, Ada mused. Although, it was going to be funny to see the look on his face if he realized 'Ada Wong' wasn't dead...

Well, this _was_ new...

The facility was gone. Underwater structure or not, it was obvious even from the surface there had been massive damage below—an explosion, if the smoke, debris, and rogue flames dancing along the waterline were any indication. With that, she made her approach, her target becoming clearer and clearer. No briefcase with a vial inside—that'd be far too simple. She'd have settled for just the vial, really. Contrary to popular belief, Ada wasn't that picky.

No, the container _this_ sample was sealed in was just a little bit bigger and considerably less secure. It could go at any minute. Ada slowed her pace and readied her weapon, just in case. She took quiet, careful steps.

Gazing down, she decided he still looked human enough; then again, so did plenty of the J'avo she'd taken down, even some of the ones that lumbered around on slimy, trunk-like legs, or dragged slimy, trunk-like arms. Behind their masks had been human faces.

In front of Ada was one such face. His left eye was closed, the right eye open but rolled up, with only the white showing. There wasn't really any eyelid left above his right eye so it wasn't surprising. The right side of his face and neck were marked with wide cuts, as if the skin had split from being stretched too thin. The right side of his shirt was shredded and his flak jacket was torn, his uniform was soaked; the khaki now dyed rosy red by a mix of seawater and blood.

He wasn't moving, aside from a twitch here and there, but Ada knew as well as _anyone_ that no matter the virus, those killed by it rarely stayed dead. And with an arm like that, and everything that had caused it to sprout out of him, it'd take more than an explosion to drop him.

So now came the question: get the sample first then take his head off or vice-versa? The mission was to get a _live_ sample...

Ada knelt. She kept her gun trained on his head and reached to check for a pulse with her free hand. She felt a slight jolt as she pressed harder with her fingertips—no pulse, just that little shock.

No, wait... There. It was faint but it was there—a weak little _thump thumping_ hiding behind that strange electric feeling. And then his eyes were on her. He inhaled sharply, roughly—a raspy, crackling, _gurgling_ plea for air.

Truth be told, it would've startled Ada less if he had attacked. Instead, he just looked at her, unnaturally bright eyes studying her as he tried just to breathe. It was as if he was desperate to place her in his memory—a memory that was probably fading by the second. She was never really there anyway, but he had no way of knowing that.

Ada was this close to squeezing the trigger when he did it—recognized her. It was _her_ face, after all, that Carla had been wearing around while she wrought havoc on the world.

The only thing that kept her from shooting him in that moment was when he managed a hushed, strained, "Ada..."

And that was all it took for her to drop her guard and let herself think, if only for a second—a _word_—that he sounded like Leon.

A second too many, because weak as he was, he still had the strength to shock Ada, figuratively _and_ literally. It wasn't the attack of a mindless, too-far-gone monster, either. Of course, she didn't have long to think on that; she was out cold in a heap on top of him just as soon as the thought entered her mind.

* * *

Ada's eyes fluttered open; she wasn't sure how long she'd been out. She forced herself up into a sitting position and looked upon the battered body beside her. She glanced over to her left and _his_ right, to where her gun had landed.

Hearing her stir, he let out a shaky breath and asked, "How are you... even alive?"

"I could say the same about you," she remarked. "Looks like the BSAA has a bad habit of unjustly declaring people dead, wouldn't you say, _Piers_?"

"How the hell... do you... know my name?"

"Come on, up and at 'em," was all Ada said in response, snaking an arm around Piers in an attempt to stand him up. She had a feeling it would be a multi-step process, given the shape he was in.

"What do you want with me?" There was far more conviction and grit in Piers's question that time.

"Nothing, really," Ada said, flippantly, loosening her grip on Piers for just a moment, hoping he could at least stay sitting up on his own.

She took the opportunity to retrieve her gun and look over her phone. The gun was fine, the phone had seen better days. She gave the touch screen a quick test, cycled through her contacts, made sure none of her other data had been damaged, and finally, snapped a couple of pictures. Of Piers. Well, what do you know... It still worked, despite... Piers's Last Stand, or at least that's what Ada assumed _he_ had intended for it to be.

He looked pretty pathetic there, chest heaving, that monstrous arm sagging, using nearly all of his strength to stay awake, aware, and in the, ahem, attached and upright position.

"On your knees," she instructed, after she'd determined he'd had enough of a rest.

He attempted a bark of laughter; it came out more like a cough. "Are we doing this... execution style?"

Ada managed a smirk. "Not just yet." She did her best to pull Piers to his knees without touching his right side. From shoulder to waist he was grey and sort of slimy; what wasn't mutated was _mutilated_.

"Then what do you want with me?" It seemed to be the one thing Piers was determined to ask without pause, without weakness.

"I told you, nothing." Ada offered her hand. "But I happen to know someone who does. Want something with you, that is. Or _from_ you, rather."

Piers took her hand. "Aren't you afraid?"

"That'll you'll kill me?" She wrapped both hands around his and pulled. Hard. She nearly fell ass over teakettle getting him upright, but he was able to keep his balance, at least. Once she'd righted herself, she added, "That you'll turn and won't be able to control yourself?"

Piers narrowed his left eye. Couldn't really do that with the right one anymore, since he was currently lacking _that_ eyelid.

Ada cocked her head to the side. "You'd have _turned_ by now if you were going to."

It _sounded_ convincing enough.

"We have to get going." Ada offered her shoulder for support.

Piers wasn't in any condition to refuse. He allowed Ada to take some of his weight and lead the way... wherever.

* * *

**A/N: Another friendly reminder that I'd be mighty pleased to hear what you think of this if you've given it a look. Unless you thought it was absolute crap. Feel free to keep quiet and go about your business in that case. ;) **


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Capcom owns all the Resident Evil characters, not me. Well, shit.**

**Summary: Piers has been saved by Ada, but surely, it can't just have been out of the goodness of her heart...? Seems she has a use for him, or maybe it's just her new employer that does...**

* * *

Piers's body hadn't been found. Hah, of course it wasn't. The last proof Chris had he was even still alive was a blast of electricity strong enough to knock that thing—intel later told him it was called Haos—away from the escape pod. Then the entire complex below was blown to shit. Piers had still been down there when it went, and even if he somehow _did_ make it out, the chance of anyone finding him and recognizing him... Well, that was just it—there was no chance.

The chance of Piers surviving, _as_ Piers—hell, at all—was taken when he stuck himself with that bitch's needle. Or so Chris told himself, but it wasn't necessarily what he _believed_. Piers died down there because _Chris_ let a shove, a closed door, and a stubborn soldier—teammate, friend, _brother_—tell him that was the end.

No, if Piers got to the surface, it was in a tomb—one of those cocoons, like Finn, Marco... _everyone_ else; a monument to their former selves. Those things were damn near indestructible, after all; they were almost as hard to destroy as what was brewing up inside of 'em.

Then again, allies always seemed to die a hell of a lot easier than the enemy. Chris knew that all too well. And he was in for another unneeded reminder.

"Mail call, Captain," Greene said, handing a medium sized manila envelope to Chris.

The envelope was void of stamps, a return address, and any other obvious clues as to its sender. On it, in smooth black ink and neat, simple script was _Chris Redfield._

"Where was it?" Chris asked.

"With today's mail, Captain," Greene answered.

"Hmm."

It may have _been_ with the rest of the mail but it sure hadn't _come_ with it. The envelope was light—very light—but something small shifted around inside as Chris examined it.

"Well, I don't see any white powder," Greene tried to joke.

He was a good kid. Sure lived up to his name, though. He was _green_, but capable. Smart, quick, a damn good shot, and one of the only men on the team who didn't shy away from engaging Chris in conversation or speaking to him like an actual person. Almost reminded him of...

No one.

Chris was past the point of letting anyone on the team remind him of anyone. Liking the kid superficially was plenty, and it was more than a lot of people got from him nowadays.

He gave the envelope one last look and opened it as carefully as he could. If there was any chance the sender left any DNA on it—actually sealed it themselves, or somehow left prints—he'd find it. Inside the envelope was a single data chip.

"What is it, Captain?" Greene asked, eyeballing the SD card in between Chris's thumb and index finger.

"Not sure," Chris admitted. He dropped the chip into the envelope. "I'll let you know when I know."

He walked away. Greene didn't push it.

* * *

_**Chris Redfield.**__ The name stood out just about everywhere, even in writing, Ada was learning, and with nothing else to accompany it, too. Her gloved hands put down the pen she'd been using, picking up a micro SD card instead. She held it a moment and looked it over. It was funny how much trouble such a tiny little thing was going to cause, how so much could be contained within something so small. She dropped it in the envelope. _

_ Things were going to get interesting._

_ "Where the hell am I?" Piers was awake. His voice was strong and clear. His body still had a ways to go, though. _

_ "A former Neo-Umbrella facility," Ada responded, glancing back._

_ Luckily, he wasn't trying to move. Much._

_ "In what country?"_

_ "I don't think so." Ada put the envelope down then stood up and headed for Piers's bedside. _

_ She leaned over slightly to get a better look at him. Piers tried to strike but he didn't have the strength for it. Or the arm. He had spirit, though. Ada had to give him that. He had a bit of speed, too, considering the shape he was in. Better than before—much better—but still._

_ Piers reached across his chest with his left hand, feeling for a right arm that was no longer there, in _any_ form. "What the fuck did you do to me?"_

_ "You don't remember?" Ada asked. She was genuinely curious. "Well, it's probably for the best. It wasn't pretty."_

_ "Whatever the hell you're planning on doing with me... You might as well kill me now. I won't have any part of it, after what you did to my men."_

_ "Your men?" Ada raised an eyebrow._

_ "...Our men."_

_ "I'm not the enemy Piers," she said, a hint of sadness in her voice that almost surprised her. Almost. "I'm not an ally either, though, so don't go mistaking me for one." She turned her back and stepped away to retrieve the envelope she'd addressed to Chris a few moments before._

_ "Not on your life."_

_ "However, I have saved _your life_. Twice, now." She paused. "So, do a lady a favor." She returned with the envelope._

_ Piers sneered at Ada then the envelope then Ada again._

_ "Come on now, your tongue still works," Ada taunted. She held the envelope out._

_ Piers pulled himself up into a sitting position, as he contemplated Ada's request. "Who's this going to that you want my DNA on it, huh?"_

_ "Smart man," she pretended to praise him. "I bet you were top of your class."_

_ Ada allowed Piers to snatch the envelope from her hand. A look of confusion and pain washed over his face, unlike anything she'd seen on him yet, and she'd seen quite a bit, even in the short amount of time they'd spent together. Of all he'd been through recently, somehow _this_ was what had cut the deepest. He didn't look to see what was inside, just licked the envelope, sealed it, and handed it back without a word. It was like he'd figured out she wasn't going to tell him anything more. _

_ She couldn't, not yet._

_ Piers wasn't as naive as he looked, Ada had to give him that. She'd half-expected him to get excited seeing the name Chris Redfield right there. But he didn't. He just looked... sad._

_ "He won't bite," Piers finally spoke again._

_ "Hmm?" Ada looked back._

_ Piers continued, emotionlessly. "Whatever trap you've got in place—he won't fall for it."_

_ Ada decided to indulge Piers, his eyes wouldn't allow her to ignore him, she could tell that much even at a glance. She hadn't had much of a chance to take in his appearance before. Shame; there was no denying he was attractive. Still, there was something... off about his eyes. They were too bright, too intense. _

_ Well, at least they weren't neon orange._

_ "Oh? What makes you so sure?" she asked._

_ "The bait's not good enough," Piers muttered, and slumped back a little. He was exhausted. He closed his eyes, indicating he was done with her._

_ She gave a little half smile he'd never see and insisted, "The bait's plenty good, if I do say so myself."_

_ With that, Ada left the room, locking the door behind her. It meant leaving Piers alone for a while, but she'd have to deliver the envelope __by hand to make sure it reached its destination in tact. Her only other option was to take him along for the trip and that was _not_ going to happen, even if he _were_ fit to travel. No, he could last a bit on his own. He'd have to. She'd left food and he had access to water, if he even woke up again before she returned. As long as he didn't try to bust out, no harm should come to him.  
_

_Ada wouldn't let herself think on it any longer. __She had a package to deliver. _

* * *

**A/N: Yes, I know I haven't explained what Ada did to make Piers's arm go bye-bye. That's coming later. :) Also, yes, I know one of the properties of the enhanced C-virus was that those infected don't go through the whole cocoon thing anymore, so Chris's musing about Piers ending up 'like Finn and Marco' isn't correct. _He_ couldn't know that, though, right? Since that sample didn't make it back to the lab... :S Anyhoo, that's my story and I'm stickin' to it.  
**

**The amount of time Ada was away and left Piers alone would depend on where Chris is at the moment... Could've been hours, could've been a couple of days. :)**


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Capcom owns all the Resident Evil characters, not me. Why you do me like that, Capcom, huh?**

**Summary: Piers has been saved by Ada, but surely, it can't have been out of the goodness of her heart...? Seems she has a use for him, or maybe it's just her new employer that does...**

* * *

"Prints, saliva, anything you can pull. If there _is_ anything to pull. I know it's a long shot, but—" Chris stopped mid-sentence and sighed. "The package is on its way."

"You got it, Chris," the voice on the other end of the line replied. A female, and she sounded young.

Chris didn't figure Rebecca would ever sound anything but, though.

"Thanks, Rebecca. Just wanted you to know what was coming when you got an envelope in an envelope from me."

"Who would do that? Send you an empty envelope?" she mused.

Chris shrugged, uselessly, and looked down at the SD card in his hand. "That's what we've gotta find out. Looked damn clean but it's possible it was tampered with before I got it. Either way, it's not something I wanna get the whole gang excited about, unless there's a damn good reason to."

Unless he had no choice was more like it.

"Understood."

"Keep in touch," Chris said, as warmly as he could. It wasn't for lack of affection for Rebecca; it was for the deceit. The less she knew the better. Hell, he hardly knew anything; it's not like he was keeping that much from her anyway. He was keeping even more from the BSAA and damn near as much from _himself_ at this point.

He hadn't even taken a look at what was on the memory card yet but he had a feeling he wasn't gonna like it.

"Chris?" she called out suddenly, worry evident in her voice.

"Hmm?"

"What is it?"

"Something's not right about this."

"We don't know that yet."

Rebecca wasn't letting up. "I just have a feeling."

Chris nodded. No harm in that. It wasn't like she'd be able to see his apprehension over the phone. "Talk to you soon."

Rebecca warily, and _wearily_ agreed, "Yeah."

Chris hung up. Phone now free, he popped the cover and put the SD card into the slot on the side.

A slideshow of images began to play, accompanied by _her _silky, sultry, smug-as-shit voice, narrating it all. Ada Wong.

"I don't suppose I need to tell you who you're looking at, Mr. Redfield. You know him quite well," Ada taunted.

Goddamn right he did. It was _Piers_ he was looking at. Piers, leaning up against charred wreckage, still in uniform, cut up, burnt, and _mutated_, in the first series of images. He recognized the location immediately. It was just off that damn underwater oil field in China.

The slideshow was over, the first one at least, and Chris was prompted to continue on to the next. Jaw clenched, and with a white-knuckle grip on his phone, he did just that.

"Although, you obviously know _who_ you're looking at, let me be clear that you _do not_ know _what _you're looking at. You _do not_ know _anything_. Forget everything you think you know. But I think it's time you knew the truth, don't you?"

The second series of images cycled through in perfect time with Ada's commentary. Piers wasn't in uniform in those, wasn't in the open, wasn't covered in blood. Looked like hell, but he looked like himself. Unconscious, or maybe worse, probably under heavy guard at some lab somewhere—Neo-Umbrella was still out there, after all—given the bed and the medical equipment all around. There was some scarring on the right side of his face and neck. No right arm.

"Well, _catch_ ya later," Ada teased, once the last picture was shown, putting extra emphasis on 'catch', and Chris's screen went dark.

* * *

"Rebecca," Chris said, almost before he had his phone to his ear. "What have you got?"

"Before you do anything, Chris, please just think about all of this," was all she said.

"Come on, Rebecca."

"Anyone who would leave a trace of DNA on here... Well, it's gotta be a trap, right? Nobody does that by accident after going to so much trouble to look anonymous."

"So who is it? Were you able to ID them?" Chris asked.

"Not exactly—" Rebecca's voice trailed off.

"Spit it out."

"It's male," she began, sort of sheepishly.

"What?" Chris hadn't meant to sound so surprised. Or surprised at all, really.

"But it doesn't match anyone in any database because it's not exactly—"

"Enough of this 'not exactly' shit. Just tell me what you found out. You can say it, whatever it is. I went to you with this and not the BSAA lab for a reason, Rebecca."

"Okay," Rebecca agreed, her resolve returning. "It's a _close_ match, actually, but there's something... _else_ there. There's something that's different from this sample and the closest match, a mid-20s Caucasian male."

"Yeah, and what's that?" Chris asked. He was getting a little irritated.

"Whoever licked your mystery envelope isn't human." She sighed. "Not—"

"Not exactly, right?" Chris guessed.

"Yeah."

Mid-20s Caucasian male, not exactly human. Goddamnit.

"It isn't much, but would you like me to send you what I've got on him?" Rebecca asked, though she had an idea what Chris's answer would be.

"No need. You've done enough," was Chris's subdued response. He meant it.

"This seems bad, Chris. This profile—he's BSAA," Rebecca murmured. "And he was just recently reported dead."

Chris managed a smile. "Don't worry about it."

Rebecca scoffed. "Yeah, right."

"Take care. Get rid of the envelope, the results, everything, alright?"

"...Alright."

"Good girl." Chris paused. "Rebecca."

"Yes?"

"_I'm_ BSAA."

"Yeah. Why do you think I'm so worried?"

"Rebecca?"

"Chris?"

"Shut up."

She laughed a little.

"One more thing," Chris paused and whispered, "Thanks."

* * *

"You're skating on thin ice," a harsh female voice spoke.

Ada rolled her eyes. She was close to sighing but she didn't want her new boss to hear her.

The woman continued, "Pull a stunt like that again and The Family will have no qualms about severing all ties with you. _And then some_. My brother may have had some sort of misguided loyalty to you but I sure don't."

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about," Ada lied. "Was my package damaged in transit? That's too bad, really. I, of course, can't be held responsible for that."

"Listen here, Wong. We had a deal. You know damn well what you delivered wasn't the enhanced C-virus. If you think you can send some watered down vial of crap, you've got another thing coming."

"You hired me to supply you with a live sample of the C-virus _I_ had been toiling away at, in its most advanced form. Now I know the quality wasn't the best, but to be fair, you didn't give me much notice. Besides, I was just following your directions, or have you forgotten?"

"Believe me, the last thing I'm going to do is _forget_. Deliver it, for real this time, or I'll come get it myself."

Ada managed a laugh at that. "It'd almost be worth it to see you try."

She disconnected the call and looked down at her phone with disdain. At least Derek had always pretended to have some class. Little Sis was a different story. A born and bred ballbuster, whether or not there were any balls around to bust. That was Ms. Colette Simmons. She probably had to be that way, lest she spend her entire life in her big brother's shadow. She liked being in the shadows, sure, just not Derek's.

It wouldn't be long before The Family realized Ada had played a part in his demise and that her gracious acceptance of their offer for employment—or was it reemployment—certainly wasn't her way of trying to mend fences. Colette was right to be suspicious but her aim was just a little bit off...

"Another happy customer?"

Ada glanced back to the doorway. She should've closed the door and locked it. _His_ too. The more Piers recovered, the more he mouthed off. Pretty soon he'd be demanding answers, _real_ answers, and she couldn't afford to give them just yet.

"I'm sorry, Piers. I shouldn't have let you out." She tossed the phone down on the desk in front of her.

He was leaning to the left, letting his shoulder rest against the door frame, dressed in a pair of something resembling scrubs. There was so shortage of the things—fresh white gowns, and tops, and drawstring pants as far as the eye could see, just waiting to be smeared with blood. Enough for each test subject when the place was operational, Ada figured. Piers had likely come to that conclusion by now as well.

"I _could_ run," Piers said, suddenly.

"Shall I give you a head start?" Ada refused to indulge him, to call his bluff.

"I said I _could_ run. Didn't say I was gonna. I think I'll stick around a while. Long enough to see you get what you deserve, at least."

Smart-mouthed son of a bitch. Such _ugly_ words coming out of such a _pretty_ mouth.

"Well, it's late, and you certainly need your beauty sleep," Ada said, standing up and heading for the doorway. Piers didn't budge as she made her approach. "Piers," she called out sweetly, their faces just a couple of inches apart.

He didn't respond.

"You were right," she said quietly.

"Yeah? About what?"

"Chris Redfield." She waited a moment to see if he would react. "He didn't bite."

Ada wasn't entirely sure why she'd said it. It could very well have been the truth, but she didn't know that for certain. Of course, she'd assumed the great Chris Redfield would've made some sort of progress by now, but there was no evidence of it if he had. She found it unlikely he'd just leave things be after seeing what she'd shown him. Even if he'd dismissed the whole thing as a hoax—some sort of sick joke—surely, he'd want to find out who'd dare pull such a stunt. She'd left him more than enough to go on, too. Or so she thought. Perhaps Chris's reputation had been... exaggerated.

Ada told herself she wasn't doing it just to evoke a reaction from Piers; it was essential for her to maintain a very delicate balance when it came to him. Neither friend nor foe. He could bitch and moan and pout and glare to no end, as long as he didn't fuck this up for her anymore than he already had by being such a terrible host for Carla's virus.

Piers cast Ada a look of fury, turned and headed for what had become 'his' room. "Then I guess it's a good thing someone's coming for _you_."

"Eavesdropping is unbecoming. Doesn't seem like you," Ada remarked.

They'd reached Piers's room by then.

Piers lowered himself onto the bed and put his arm across his face. "Yeah, well, giving someone more than enough time to trace a call doesn't seem like _you_."

* * *

**A/N: Another day, another chapter. Hope everyone who's reading is enjoying. Lemme know if you are. I'd be most happy to hear it. I should have the next few chapters looked over and posted soon. :) I hope nobody minds the random Rebecca cameo. XD  
**


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Resident Evil characters, etc. They all belong to Capcom. I wonder how much it would cost to get my hands on Piers...**

**Summary: Piers has been saved by Ada, but surely, it can't have been out of the goodness of her heart...? Seems she has a use for him, or maybe it's just her new employer that does...**

**Notes: Longer chapter than the previous installments. Hope no one minds. Starting to bring more characters in and get things into gear and all that stuff.**

* * *

Leon hadn't seen Chris since China. They may have been in the same line of work, more or less, but they really didn't cross paths very often. Imagine Leon's surprise when Chris called on him and said they needed to talk. ASAP, in person, and no one else needed to know. Leon understood what that meant: tell anyone and your ass is grass, Kennedy.

"What's going on, Chris?" It was a simple enough question.

"Dunno, but I'm damn sure gonna find out." Chris stopped for a second and threw on a smile—a big shit-eating grin, no less. It was a little bit unsettling. "And _you're_ gonna help me."

Unfazed, Leon agreed, "Of course. I'll do whatever I can."

Chris nodded. "Good. I need to know everything you know about Ada Wong."

"Chris," Leon muttered, with a sigh, and closed his eyes.

"Starting with where the hell she might be, and how the hell she isn't dead."

"I don't know. You're the one who told me she was dead." Leon shook his head and gave a little shrug.

"I saw her shot in the chest and fall from the upper level of an aircraft carrier." Chris paused to make a point. It was almost as if he was daring Leon to try and interject. "I saw her land down below."

"And I saw her alive after you told me she was dead. I don't know what to tell you."

"Let's try the truth, why don't we?" Chris asked. It didn't sound much like a question, though.

Leon insisted, "It is the truth. And I believe every word you've said, too. I don't know."

"Yeah? So you believe she was behind everything then? Because I had proof of that. I fucking had proof."

Leon cocked his head to the side and there was a look of surprise, bordering on suspicion in his eyes. "What kind of proof?"

"She had the virus on her."

Leon nodded, but just so. It wasn't really that surprising. She was probably collecting a sample for someone. Wouldn't have been the first time. Or the second. Probably not even in the single digits anymore, Leon mused.

"You don't look very shocked to hear that," Chris muttered. "Carrying it around in that briefcase of hers. Three vials—it had space for three vials. There was only one left."

Leon asked, "So am I to assume you got your hands on the third vial? Is that your proof?"

"No," Chris practically spat out the word. "That _was_ my proof."

Leon nodded, believing he understood. "You lost it?"

"I thought I had." Chris said. There was something unbalanced about the look on his face, the half-smile, the way the light hit his eyes.

"Chris, you're not making a lot of sense here."

"We're gonna find her. You and me, _partner_. Then it's gonna make all the sense in the world. Because I'm not leaving until she sings it to the treetops, tells us all _everything_ she's done."

"Just when it seemed like things were calming down. Alright. I'm in. I'll tell you what I know about Ada, but like I keep saying, it isn't much. It never has been." He stopped and cast Chris a stern, no-nonsense look. "And you're gonna tell me everything you know."

Chris agreed. "Alright."

"One more thing." Leon actually smiled a bit, and dared to press his luck. She was no saint, but he knew Ada wasn't the person Chris thought she was, so he added one more condition to the agreement. "You first."

Chris's jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed, as he mulled it over for a minute. "Fine," he muttered, even though he knew what that meant disclosing.

Chris wasn't thrilled about the idea of showing Leon that little picture show Ada had sent him, but Leon had made it clear he wasn't awarding his cooperation any other way. Maybe Leon'd finally see the woman for what she really was, so he supposed something good might come of it.

He handed over the SD card with a gruff, "Have at it."

Leon reacted pretty much as expected. Confused, upset, disbelieving; it mirrored Chris's reaction except Chris knew the kicker for Leon was the sound effects more than the pictures.

"Where did you get this?" Leon asked, rather calmly.

"Someone put it in with the rest of our mail."

"Who?"

"Are you fucking kidding me, Leon? Who the hell do you think?" Chris shouted.

"How did it come?" Leon didn't miss a beat.

"Plain manila envelope, no address, no postage. Just my name on it."

"Any prints, DNA?"

"Yeah," Chris answered, just waiting for Leon to ask the next obvious question.

Leon doubted Ada's information was out there anywhere. She could've licked the envelope up and down but nobody would be able to ID her from it. Still, he had to ask, "_Her_ DNA?"

"_His_."

"The sooner we find her, the better," was all Leon could respond with.

It was odd, even for Ada. It just went to prove what he'd said to Chris earlier—he didn't know her. He had no idea why she did the things she did.

A moment later, Leon added, "It's what she wants, after all." He was sure of that, at least. He may have figured out the what, but not the why.

Never the why.

Chris just stared at Leon as he seemed to be thinking things over. Leon reviewed the contents of Ada's memory chip. Chris watched as he pressed his thumb to his screen, pausing on a specific picture—a wide shot of Piers, sedated, most likely, with thick bandages stretching from his collarbone past his ribcage. He was in a simple hospital bed. There was equipment nearby, heart monitors and the like, but none of it seemed to be on. A bag of blood hung on an IV stand, with a line running into Piers's left arm.

"There's something wrong with this picture," Leon commented, sort of absently, though he was studying the image very closely.

"There's a lot wrong with it," Chris muttered.

"No, I mean, it's not a very close up shot of him. It's almost like she's trying to show us what the place looks like, don't you think?"

Chris shrugged. He hadn't noticed that.

"Don't get me started on _him_," Leon continued.

"Watch it," Chris warned him, through clenched teeth.

Leon seemed mildly amused. "Easy. I mean the set-up. None of the monitors are on. He's bandaged and getting blood but that's it."

"So what does it mean?" Chris demanded.

Leon gave a sheepish, 'why are you asking me?' sort of look. "I don't know. If I had to guess—"

"Then guess."

"I'd _guess_," Leon emphasized the word, "that they need help, and not just a little."

"Help?" Chris echoed. There was no hiding his disbelief.

"Yeah."

"Then why the hell wouldn't she just ask for it? _Order_ someone to help her? Isn't she the head honcho there? Wherever the hell 'there' is."

"She's probably being watched. I don't know first-hand what it's like to be on the inside of a Neo-Umbrella facility—" Leon stopped, suddenly, and snapped his fingers. He looked like he'd just had an epiphany. Or lost his mind. "But I know someone who does."

"Leon, we are not bringing anyone else into this," Chris insisted.

"It's not just anyone, it's Sherry. And yeah we are, unless you don't intend to get your partner _out_ of it."

Chris reclaimed the memory stick and looked over the pictures once more—with the sound _off_—while Leon chatted with Sherry, off to the side.

Damnit if Leon wasn't right. Half of the 'after' pictures of Piers, if they could be called that, were taken at odd angles, showing the doorway, the electronic locking mechanisms on the door to the room he was in, that there was a vent just above and slightly to the right of the door. But there was no floor number, no room number, nothing written in any language Chris could read... It'd be like trying to find a needle in a haystack without more to go on.

"They're on the way," Leon announced, putting his phone away.

"They?" Chris repeated, sounding less than amused.

* * *

Sometimes Piers swore he could still feel it, his right arm, like it was still there. Like it _wasn't gone_. And yeah, there was a difference. He'd heard that, though, stories about amputees who still felt pain long after their limb had been taken. And it really hadn't been that long since he'd lost it—_really_ lost it. The second time. The one that stuck. About a month, since he'd been awake and had some idea what was going on, anyway. If he had to guess. And he did, because his only means of keeping track of the days was Ada, and she didn't seem to give a shit.

Piers hadn't seen daylight since she'd found him, and the only time he saw the outside of the room she was keeping him in was when she deigned to let him out. Letting him out usually meant inputting the passcode to disable the lock and calling out, "Don't try anything stupid, alright? I wouldn't want to have to shoot you again," through the door. Oh, and when he got something to eat.

She watched him eat. Had to make sure he wasn't gonna croak on her, I guess. Not from malnutrition, anyway. And at what he assumed to be the end of the day, she locked him in again.

Sometimes Piers thought he could hear gunfire through the walls, through the vent above the door in his room, and after it got quiet again, boot heels clicking down the hallway outside his door. The same boot heels that came for him in the morning or what he guessed to be morning, at least. He wondered just what was going on out there. But that was about all he could do, as long as he was still stuck on lockdown, in bed, a useless gimp. No weapon, no clothes—fucking pajamas. Not even. He was dressed like someone who would tell you to piss in a cup.

What did it matter, though? The last great task _he'd_ been trusted with was licking an envelope.

Bitch.

Ada may have been right, though—she probably was. If Chris was going to come, he would've come already. Piers made a fist; it felt like two.

Crap. Those damn boot heels and three beeps. The door opened and Piers sat up in bed. Ada stood in the doorway, a crossbow slung over her back, a knife in her boot, her Ammo Box 50 in hand and ready to be fired at any time.

"You were right," she said, hurriedly.

"That again? Yeah, he didn't fall for it. You know, he could still be looking. Maybe he just needs more time. I doubt you gave him a map and a compass."

She shook her head. "They've found us."

"What?"

"We have to move. They tracked me, and they're coming for us," Ada explained... sort of.

"Us? I'm pretty sure that means they're coming for you. I don't think they'd be too concerned with your prisoner or pet or whatever the hell you think I am."

"There's no time. You can still shoot, right?" Ada handed over the Ammo Box 50, practically shoving it into Piers's hand.

"No," he refused. He tried to hand the gun back. "If there's any chance Chris is looking for me, I'm staying. It's not me these people are after."

Ada gave him an 'actually...' look.

"_Why_ is it me these people are after?" Piers deadpanned.

"I'll explain on the way."

"On the way where?"

"I'll explain that on the way too." Ada left the room without looking back. She trusted Piers would follow.

He did. He followed Ada as she cautiously navigated the... living quarters. The place had the look of a hospital, this particular part of it, anyway. Piers doubted anybody had ever healed there before, though. He was the first, if what he'd done counted as healing. His body felt better but it wasn't right. A person didn't just recover from wounds like that.

A _person_, no. That was the difference right there, he thought to himself.

Ada ducked into a locker room and beckoned Piers to keep up with a no-nonsense, "I said, 'move up'. Pay attention."

"The locker room, really?" he asked.

"I'm not going to be seen with you looking like that," Ada remarked, with a smirk.

"Thought we were trying to get out of here without being seen at all," Piers muttered.

Ada headed for the back row of lockers and opened one. "Depends on who's looking, right?"

What remained of Piers's BSAA uniform was hanging inside the locker. Anyone who didn't know what they were looking at _wouldn't know what they were looking at_. Just a bloody half-shredded shirt and flak jacket and a less-bloody but singed pair of khaki pants. None of his gear was there. The only thing left that might be of use were the boots, which Ada grabbed and dropped in front of him.

"What the hell are you doing? Why do you even have this?" he asked, staring into the locker. He wanted to look away but couldn't quite do it.

"Just be glad that I do." Ada knelt down and smacked Piers on the leg—her way of telling him 'boots'.

"I know how to put on my own damn shoes."

Ada stopped Piers, looked him in the eyes then let her gaze sweep across to the empty sleeve on his right. "Sorry, but I just haven't got time to watch the little BSAA agent that could," she said, lacing and tying both boots—tight.

She was treating him like a fucking child. A child she'd very recently given a gun, but still.

Then she stood up and went for his uniform, pulling it out from its position inside the locker, hanger and all, and looking it over rather intently.

"That's pretty creepy, you know? Why do you really have that?" Piers asked. She'd never answered him, after all.

Ada was holding the uniform up now, arm outstretched, walking around the room. It was like she was admiring it, and from all sorts of angles. She paused for a moment and extended her free hand to the wall and ran it against a break in the concrete. She hung Piers's uniform and waited a moment to make sure it would hold.

"How about it?" she asked. "I think it makes a great conversation piece."

"Not getting any less creepy," Piers said, nearing her.

"It's no map and compass but it'll have to do."

Suddenly, it all made sense. Piers glanced left and right. Anyone entering the room was bound to see it, not to mention it being in full view of the surveillance camera, if the thing still worked.

Piers gave a nod and Ada actually returned the gesture. Neither said a word. She stepped into the hallway. Piers shook his head, sighed, and followed. He glanced over his shoulder and took one last look at his tattered, singed, bloodstained uniform.

There would be no going back, to any of it. He'd never fit into a BSAA uniform again.

* * *

**A/N: I feel so efficient. I'm not, really. A fair amount of this story is done and ready to be posted. Just a matter of splitting it into chapters and uploading. Feedback is always nice. :)**


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: All Resident Evil characters are belong to Capcom. This displeases me.**

** Summary: Piers has been saved by Ada, but surely, it can't have been out of the goodness of her heart...? Seems she has a use for him, or maybe it's just her new employer that does...**

* * *

"Lemme see," Jake demanded, trying to snatch Sherry's phone from her.

"Stop it. You'll get your turn."

"Come on, quit hoggin' the phone."

"It's _my_ phone."

Chris gave Leon an utterly displeased looked. "Children, Leon. They're _children_."

Leon chuckled. "They're a grown man and woman. Don't let their current—" He paused to look for the right word. "..._Behavior_ fool you. You know as well as I do that they can both hold their own."

Jake wrapped his hand around Sherry's, and her phone. It would've been far more effective to outmuscle her and just take her phone away, if he were so inclined to. "Would you just—that's Chinese, over there, on the door," he said, suddenly.

Sherry let out a little, "Hmm?" She made no move to free her hand from his grasp. "There was a sign like that on the door to my room, too, in the facility where they were keeping us. How about you?" She looked Jake squarely in the eyes.

The intimacy of the eye contact didn't go unnoticed by Leon or Chris.

Jake just shrugged. "Nope. Kept me in a fucking bubble, or didn't I tell you? Guess they didn't trust me not to try and break out."

"Can you read it?" Sherry asked, finally breaking eye contact and looking down at her screen.

Jake cleared his throat. "Hard to tell since the door's part-way open in that one. Zoom in some more."

Sherry obliged. She seemed perfectly happy to accept a request from Jake to, essentially, get closer.

Chris took a step back, and jerked his head in Leon's direction, motioning for him to take a step back as well. He covered his mouth with his hand and murmured, "Thought he went back to his old job."

Leon shrugged. "So did I. Guess he was in the neighborhood. Wherever he was, he's here now."

"Doesn't fit." Chris wasn't buying it. "He's got no stake in this."

"Maybe he doesn't see it that way. What does it matter, Chris? He's here, and we could use the extra help. Haven't you two got some unfinished business, anyway?"

"Chris?" Sherry called out suddenly. It was a welcome interruption; it kept him from having to answer to Leon in that moment.

"Yeah?"

"We can't be 100 percent certain but... this sure seems like the facility we were kept at."

"How certain are you?" Leon asked.

Jake was the one to answer, "Certain enough."

Leon nodded his agreement. "Detention center masquerading as a mansion... It'd be a good place for someone trying to hide out, Chris."

"You really think Neo-Umbrella's leader's squatting in a place like that? It might as well be condemned at this point. Intel says it's been dark since the end of June. It was abandoned after sustaining structural damage when a tank crashed the front entrance," Chris wasn't so easy to convince.

"And then some. Fucking tank," Jake grumbled.

Sherry's eyes lit up. "That was the night we escaped! I agree with Leon. If it's abandoned, that's gotta be why she chose it."

Chris let out a groan that ended up sounding more like a growl. Jake was staring at him. It was bad enough finding out Piers was being held at some Neo-Umbrella facility, by _her,_ poked and prodded at, but at least he thought the place was functional—you know, _sterile_. Yeah, right. Like anything Ada Wong was involved with was _clean_.

Chris should've known better. He'd been in his share of so-called 'abandoned' facilities. They were never empty; they'd never been abandoned. People didn't get out of places like that; people died in places like that.

No one got out, no one ever got out.

He glanced at Jake and Sherry. Except those two...

* * *

Ada peered around the corner, crossbow aimed, before stepping forward. She didn't call for Piers to move forward, didn't gesture. She didn't so much as look back. He sighed and followed anyway. She was keeping a few yards distance between them. She was clearly not someone who worked well with others. Or maybe she just didn't do it very often.

It was quiet—damn quiet—and Piers couldn't help but wonder if this wasn't just some game to her. That conversation he overheard—Ada _let_ him overhear it. Then she made it seem like _he'd_ come up with the idea of someone tracking them. And now she was probably leading him on some wild mutated goose chase.

What the hell was her deal? Whatever it was, she was nothing like she had been on the aircraft carrier.

They continued down the hallway. Ada ducked around a corner and ordered him to stay with a nonchalant, "Be right back." Glancing over her shoulder, she teased, "You aren't afraid of the dark, are you?"

She didn't wait for an answer before cutting the power.

From then on, all Piers could see was what was illuminated by the small light above Ada's ear.

"And how the hell am _I_ supposed to see anything?" Piers asked.

Ada let the light shine on his face and studied his features a moment. He wasn't bad looking, even with those few scars that hadn't faded. The fact that his right eyelid grew back helped, too. Right eyelid, yes. Right arm, no.

Piers's pupils shrunk but he didn't squint or shy away from the light, or her gaze.

"The less anyone can see of us the better. Cutting the power releases all the locks in this area. Opens the doors for us, but it opens everything up for them, too."

"Them? Who?"

Ada offered a sly smile before answering, "That could be any number of... _people_. Ah, well, it can't be helped. Not important."

"No, but being able to see an inch in front of my face is," Piers complained.

Ada put her hand on her hip. "You want a gun or you want a light?"

"I wanna not die in this hellhole because of you," was Piers's reply.

"Likewise," Ada said, slinging her crossbow over her shoulder. She pulled a small flashlight from one of the pouches on her belt and offered it. "You don't need to share with me where you're going to keep it. We're not that close."

Luckily, the scrub top Ada'd scrounged up for Piers to wear had a pocket. It wasn't an ideal place for a light but it was about as good as it got. He stuck the flashlight in there—one of those curved lights, with a little clip—and resigned himself to dealing with the fact that it was going to sway left and right with nearly every step he took. What else could he do—stick it in his armpit? Probably beat what Ada was insinuating he might do with it.

"How about you share with me where the hell we're going?" Piers asked.

"We need to regroup. We'll hit the communication room, in the main house."

Piers chuckled. "House? You expect me to believe this is a house?"

"It is on the outside. You know the old saying, 'it's what's on the inside that counts'." She gave Piers a smirk.

He didn't need to ask just what the hell she was implying. He knew. Whatever she'd done and however she'd done it... he knew better than to believe he was cured. It was _her_ virus in the first place, wasn't it?

A moment later Ada was back in mission mode. "When I get to the communication room, I can get an idea how close she is."

"She?" Piers asked.

"Long story."

"I'm not going anywhere. Well, actually, I am. I just have no fucking idea where."

Piers was getting testy. It was way past his bedtime, though, Ada mused.

"Whoever you're working for, right? So it's a woman," Piers concluded. "I thought _you_ were in charge around here."

"It's a common misconception." Ada paused. "We're almost out of the research area, come on."

No sooner had she said it did the power come back on.

"Damnit," she hissed. It was the first time Piers had seen her show any frustration.

"So she's already caught up to us?"

"No."

"No?" Piers echoed. He readied his gun.

"Let me put it this way, Piers: the call is coming from inside the house."

He groaned. "Great."

The sound of locks re-engaging could be heard. It was obviously multiple doors being secured at once. Each one that Ada had opened, most likely. Piers hadn't understood before exactly what she was trying to accomplish but he had an idea. It probably had something to do with those long nights he spent listening to gunfire in the distance, somewhere outside the confines of his room. Guess he was about to see just what Ada'd been shooting at out there.

Of course. J'avo.

* * *

**A/N: Aw, damn. That's not very nice of me to stop there. Hope everyone who's been reading is enjoying. I'd like to hear what you think of things so far. :)**


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Capcom owns the Resident Evil characters, not I.**

** Summary:** **Piers has been saved by Ada, but surely, it can't have been out of the goodness of her heart...? Seems she has a use for him, or maybe it's just her new employer that does...**

**Edit: I was looking at my dog tags tonight and noticed that the plural of 'Strelats' is, apparently, 'Strelatses'. My apologies for having it wrong. XP  
**

* * *

The sample was less than impressive. Colette Simmons wanted to throw her laptop across the room every time she looked over the results. She'd looked over them plenty. It hadn't taken long for her technicians to analyze the contents of the vial Ada had provided her with. And _re-analyze_ it after she got a look at the first report.

_This_ was what Derek had died for? It couldn't have been. That bitch was holding out. She had to be. Ada Wong was never square with anyone. She never tipped her hand, never gave up the goods, until she'd gotten _everything_ she'd been promised and more.

Derek had been so hopelessly in love with her he practically let her get away with murder. Colette would be damned if she let Ada get away with _anything_, and certainly not the C-virus. A pure sample, with all of the latest enhancements: Muller's antibodies and anything else that might've been done with it to amp it up. Pure, as in _not taken from someone's body_. Colette would handle that part on her own. The Family could gather up its own test subjects. They sure as shit wouldn't be stupid enough to use BSAA agents as guinea pigs.

What the hell more could she have done to make it any easier for the woman? She gave her the name, complete file, and location of the man who had gotten his hands on the sample: Piers Nivans, BSAA North America.

Yeah, he had the sample alright. Colette wasn't sure how or why, or exactly when he'd been infected with it, only that it _had_ to be Ada Wong's doing. She refused to entertain any other possibility. Fine, then. If this was how Wong wanted to play... If Colette had to come claim Nivans to get her hands on the C-virus then claim him she would. She'd suck him dry to get a viable sample, too, if that was what it took. That garbage Ada had sent was anything but. She'd probably contaminated it on purpose. Probably injected him with it herself, thinking The Family wouldn't want to tangle with the BSAA.

How wrong you are, Ada Wong.

* * *

This'd be the test. Ada and Piers were both thinking it. They couldn't dwell on the idea too long, though, or they'd be overrun. They'd both seen how quickly one J'avo suddenly became three, or four, or twelve.

Three so far, and unarmed, at least. Ada took the lead and landed a high roundhouse on the one nearest to her, nearly taking his head off. She finished the job once he had gone down, by forcing her boot through his skull, heel deep.

Piers figured he'd better step up as well. He fired off two shots, hitting his target in each kneecap without fail then moved in for the kill. He pressed his knee into the J'avo's back, wrapped his left arm around his neck and snapped it. It felt good to know he wasn't completely useless in a fight.

One J'avo left and they were even. They shared a look; camaraderie, almost. It was almost a silent dare between them. A little, 'you want him?' But when Piers stepped up, Ada put her hand out to stop him and loaded an arrow into her crossbow. A couple of seconds later it had shattered the J'avo's mask and thoroughly penetrated his skull, dead center of the forehead.

Piers huffed a little.

"My treat," was all Ada said in response.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"Next one's on you."

"Always a catch."

"Nothing's free," Ada agreed. "We have to shut off the locks again."

"Do I wanna know why there are J'avo in here?" Piers asked.

"Probably not." Ada began the short trek back to cut the power. Again.

"Throw me a bone."

"You know that J'avo obey the last order they were given before infection, yes?" Ada asked.

"Of course."

"They work here. They're guarding the place."

Piers knew the answer but it didn't stop him from asking, "Guarding it against what?"

"Intruders, escapees, the usual."

"So which category do I fit into?"

"Both," Ada answered. "Isn't it obvious?"

"All this time...?" Piers murmured. He sounded sort of sad. No... guilty.

"Speaking of time, we haven't got any," Ada insisted. That'd get her out of answering him, whatever it was he _wasn_'t asking her.

"They've been here this whole time?" He knew it was true, sort of. He'd heard her out there, fighting before. She wasn't... protecting him, though...?

Just herself, and him, by extension. It wasn't for his benefit, though.

"Of course. Not many. Most of them were killed well before we... moved in. Until very recently, I'm afraid they didn't find you to be worth the trouble. Sorry to break it to you."

A confused "What?" escaped, and Piers immediately regretted it.

"They thought you were a test subject. They still do. _Now_, however, you're a test subject attempting to escape." Ada sighed then asked, "Can we move on?"

"Please."

Piers recognized the area they were in. It'd be pretty sad if he didn't; they'd just come from there, after all. Must've been a restricted, 'authorized personnel only' kind of place at some point. It was white... very white, and even less homey than where Ada'd had him. Must've been where they kept the lifers. Either way, he knew access to the power supply was near.

"Wait a minute," Piers called out, beckoning Ada to stop.

She obliged. She turned to face him and cocked her head to the side, her way of silently asking, 'what is it?'

"Then what about you?" he asked.

"What about me?"

"Why are they attacking you, too?"

Ada smiled just the tiniest bit before turning and moving on. Without looking back, she said, "Hate to leave you in the dark, but it really is for the best," and out went the lights again.

From then on the only sounds between them were those they made shattering masks, breaking bones, Piers firing the Ammo Box 50 and Ada her crossbow, until they reached another locker room.

Ada finally spoke, saying, "This is where the _real_ fun starts."

"Can't wait," Piers muttered.

Ada opened the door and stepped into the hall.

The hallway wasn't narrow by any means but the sheer length of it gave off the illusion. The decor—what do you know, there actually was some—was Asian. Piers didn't think he'd made it out of China; now he _knew_ he hadn't. At least he wasn't in _there_ anymore. He was still with her, though, and wasn't any closer to figuring out why.

There were broken windows letting pale moonlight and stale air in. Cracks ran along the walls, some thin, others thick enough to suggest the building had sustained some kind of structural damage recently. They continued on and the cracks got bigger. Through the door at the end of the hall and around the corner was a staircase... or most of one.

"Up," Ada instructed.

"Yes Ma'am."

At the top of the stairs, Ada turned again, speeding up, and Piers picked up the pace too, determined not to fall behind. Ahead of them was another long hallway, covered in what was once plush carpet, now littered with broken vases and dead, dried-up plants. At the end of that hallway, Ada turned left with Piers just a step behind her. Another hallway. He practically groaned.

At the end of that hallway, however, was... well, most of a staircase, leading down to the entrance hall. It looked like there'd been an earthquake. The front entrance was just down below. Something had breached the building—something big. Big like a _tank_, Piers thought to himself. Whatever it was, it hadn't stopped there, either. It had kept straight on its path to the... north, if he had his bearings, and left little more than rubble in its wake.

"Almost there," Ada said, coaxingly. She pointed to a door across the way, down on the floor below.

Piers stepped in front of her for once. "Then what the hell are we waiting for?"

They made their way down the staircase, across the entrance hall and through the door that led to the communications room Ada was so determined to get to.

Another fucking hallway, you have got to be kidding me, Piers thought.

At least it was a short one, though, so he kept his frustration in check. The same couldn't be said for Ada, however, when they reached the door at the end. Sealed. Electronically. And getting no juice.

"Nice one," Piers muttered. "Way to think things through."

"It's not the same grid. Each side of the building has its own power supply. The main house is separate from the detention facility. It was fine last time I was up here. Damnit." Ada sighed. She regained her composure quickly enough, though. "Guess it's not _vital_ that I know where her feelers are at this very moment. Yours, too, for that matter."

"What the hell do you mean by that?" Piers demanded. "You mean, if we could get in there, I could see if Chris was nearby?"

"_If_ we could get in there, perhaps. But we can't."

"Where's the power supply for this side of the house?" Piers asked.

"To the north, where the damage is the worst. It's a wonder it held out this long."

Piers said nothing. There was no need. The look on his face spoke volumes.

"We have to go. _Now_," Ada insisted, fiercely.

"Go where?" Piers asked, matching her intensity.

Once again becoming the calm, collected, and utterly unaffected woman Piers was used to seeing, Ada rather coyly suggested, "I was thinking right out the front door."

* * *

"I hope you don't think you're being compensated for this," Chris said, casting Jake a sideways glance. He'd waited until they were on the ground in China before passing that bit of information on.

"You haven't got anything I want," Jake assured him.

They moved forward. They'd taken point, leaving Leon and Sherry to take the rear. That had been on Chris's insistence and Jake had been none too pleased.

"Well, it's not money but I know I owe you some answers," Chris offered.

"Keep 'em," was the reply Chris received. It was a far cry from the last time he and Jake had talked, if that could be counted as talking.

"Jake, you need to know—"

Jake waved Chris off. "Got all the answers I need."

Chris decided to change his approach. "You _deserve_ to know."

Leon stayed a couple of steps behind Sherry, watching their surroundings for the both of them. Somehow he didn't trust she was entirely focused on the mission. Or maybe he was just being overprotective. He'd read her report; he'd heard what she and Jake had survived between Edonia and China over the course of the last half-year. He'd seen _and_ fought that thing that was stalking them and knew how much firepower it took just to get it to back off for even a short while.

"Something's not right about this, Leon," Sherry said, suddenly.

"I know."

"How could something like this have happened?" she pressed. She did it gently—sweetly—but she was pressing.

"I don't know, but I'm sure Chris is convinced it's Ada's doing, that she's the one who infected his partner."

Sherry got a funny look on her face. "That doesn't make any sense."

Leon sighed. "We'll all find out soon enough."

They continued on, side by side now.

Up ahead, Jake said, "You know, actually, there is something I want you to answer."

"Name it," Chris agreed.

Jake smirked. "Seems a little strange someone'd infect a guy with the C-virus _then_ play nursemaid to 'em, don't it?"

Chris let out a growl. "What are you implying?"

Unfazed, Jake continued, "Or was I not seeing the same picture show you were?"

"If you've got something to say, say it."

Jake didn't back down. Icy blue eyes focused on Chris, he asked, "How'd it really happen?"

Before Chris could react with rage, or denial, or anything of the sort, a screeching sound from the empty street ahead demanded his, and everyone else's attention.

Chris flattened his back against the wall and motioned for everyone to stop. Jake gave him a look that told him 'we're not done with this'. He'd help clean up the mess but he wasn't gonna let that one rest. Chris was all about giving him answers, right?

Of course it had to happen. They had to encounter some kind of setback, and when they were so close, too. Things had been too quiet. Nothing but a handful of infected who'd ignored orders to evacuate, or maybe just hadn't made it out. Whatever it was, they were few and far between, and the group seemed to be making steady progress.

Chris knew they couldn't take any chances, so they'd gone on foot for the last stretch, knowing it was best to keep a low profile. They couldn't risk tipping Ada off and giving her a chance to run away. Chris was gonna make damn sure she didn't get away from there, and that Piers _did_.

Right now, though, a handful of Strelatses seemed intent on delaying the reunion even more.

"Get ready, guys," Chris called out, loud enough that his 'team' could hear him, but hopefully not so loud that the neighborhood BOW's could.

"You got eyes on 'em, Chris? How many are we looking at?" Leon asked, moving up.

Jake took the opportunity to switch places with him and join Sherry at the rear.

Chris inched forward and peeked around the corner. "Two, three... I see four. One apiece."

Leon shook his head. "I don't like it."

Sherry crept up next to Leon. "Without the element of surprise, or the ability to fight them long-range, things could get bad, fast. Those things won't stay still for anything. Lemme see if there's a clear alternate route."

"We don't have time for this."

Sherry pulled out her phone anyway. A moment later, she offered. "A quarter mile back, we can go northeast instead and make our approach that way. I know it makes for a longer trip but there aren't any reports of BOW activity."

"It'll take too long," Chris immediately refused.

Jake stepped up, looking like he was finally ready to join in on the discussion. He pointed a finger at Chris, though not necessarily in an accusing manner. If anyone besides Chris was impatient and itchin' for a fight, he was the obvious choice. What he said, however, was, "Gotta admit, I didn't see it before. Crystal clear now, though. No wonder all your teammates end up dead."

"Watch your mouth, kid," Chris warned, his voice low, rough, threatening.

"Oh, I will. My mouth, my ass—everything. No way we're getting outta here if we trust you to do it."

"Jake!" Sherry shouted.

Almost instantly, they were surrounded, and Chris had been wrong. Or he just didn't have a clear view of the area's Strelats population. Off by two. So he'd seen the four in front. Couldn't really fault him for not noticing the two creeping up from behind.

"Guess we're sticking to the original route," Leon muttered and raised his guns.

"Keep it tight, everyone," Chris instructed the group. He, Leon, Sherry, and even Jake all moved in close to one another—shoulder to shoulder to shoulder to shoulder, and prepared for battle.

All four knew better than to just shoot without purpose. The enemy was way too quick for that. Taking a Strelats down without blowing through a good chunk of ammo meant landing at least one good hit to stagger it back so you could go in for the kill. Of course, _that_ usually meant waiting for it to slow down and rare up as it prepared to strike.

To make matters worse, this group... herd... gang... or whatever the hell one wanted to call them had begun to act just like that: a pack. A lone Strelats was enough of a pain in the ass, but it was a creature that tended to back off when an enemy got too close. Or run around like a chicken with its head cut off. If decapitated chickens could climb walls, emit poisonous gas, and shoot bone shards at their enemies when threatened, that is.

"This isn't how I remember them behaving," Leon spoke up and said what they were all thinking.

"Yeah. They ran circles around us before," Sherry agreed.

"Well, somebody's gotta make the first move," Jake said, and fired off a shot into the nearest Strelats's chest.

Then he charged. He seemed ready to wrestle the thing hillbilly vs. alligator style if need be. It wasn't such a surprise to see Jake acting so reckless but Leon and Chris didn't expect Sherry to follow suit. She mirrored the attack—one shot aimed at the creature's middle, then a charge to attack it from close-up. She opted to use her stun rod for that portion of the assault, and to rather impressive effect.

With two of their own defeated, the remaining Strelatses began circling, climbing on, _clawing_ at whatever they could—dumpsters, fencing, scaffolding from some unfinished construction effort. So much for that pack mentality. Although they'd returned to more a familiar behavior pattern, it wouldn't be any easier to take them out this way.

One jumped at Chris and he ducked and rolled to the side remarkably fast for his build and pumped two shotgun blasts into the monster's belly. What was left of it let out one last screech before its body stilled.

From halfway down the alley, the fourth Strelats decided long-range attacks were the way to go, giving little warning before shooting razor sharp shards at Leon, Chris, Jake, and Sherry. They dropped and took cover wherever they could, only peeking out for a split second here and there to fire off a quick shot.

After a few moments, and the distinct realization that Strelatses five and six had also joined in on the action, Leon reloaded his pistols, groaned and said, "This isn't working. Cover me," and brazenly stood up.

He stepped into the open, gun in each hand, firing as he did. Some of those bone shards were coming damn close to hitting him, despite the cover fire he was getting. But he trusted that sooner or later, each of those Strelatses would make its move—expose some sort of weakness—so they could be taken down. Long as it happened before he had to reload again.

* * *

**A/N: Well, crap. That would suck if Piers and Ada were already gone by the time Chris and the gang made it to the facility, huh? XD Anyhoo, I hope everyone who's keeping up on this is enjoying it. I'd like to hear what you all think about this little fic. :)**

**EDIT: Minor content tweak to include an explanation for why Piers wouldn't have been a threat to the J'avo still roaming the facility back in Chapter 2 but suddenly is now. I'm awesome.**


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Resident Evil characters.**

**Summary:** **Piers has been saved by Ada, but surely, it can't have been out of the goodness of her heart...? Seems she has a use for him, or maybe it's just her new employer that does...**

**Notes: Damn did I ramble on in this one... XD  
**

* * *

Four shots left, Leon had been counting. Four shots until he'd have to reload. Three Strelatses, still. He'd have to make each shot count; the way he saw it, he didn't have any ammo to spare. He'd stunned the Strelatses, pushed them back, distracted them, so that Chris, Jake, and Sherry were able to move up. Now he just had to do it all over again so _they_ could go in for the kill, all while keeping himself from being poisoned and punctured in the process. No pressure.

There—the one on the right, it was bobbing its head. Leon popped off a shot, aimed right for its head and connected. He was quick to shout, "Now!"

Heeding Leon's order, Jake was all over the thing. Someone else was just gonna have to deal with the others.

Leon was off to a good start on that. He dove out of the path of another of the Strelatses, as it leapt at him with intentions of pinning him down, and fired. He was quick to his feet and even quicker to send the BOW backwards with a roundhouse to the upper body. He took a couple of steps over to where its body lay, and gave its head a good stomp.

One left, and Sherry had taken to acting as bait while Chris moved around to attack it from behind. He needlessly blasted the thing in the back with his shotgun and when it fell, moved in to kick and stomp at it well after it was dead.

"Alright, let's move out," Leon called out, watching Chris out of the corner of his eye.

Jake and Sherry watched him as well, but far less discreetly. The look on Jake's face was something along the lines of 'this guy's fucking nuts'. Sherry just looked sad.

Sherry reached out and touched Chris's arm. Her hand looked so incredibly tiny resting against his bicep. "The path is clear now, Chris," she whispered.

He gave a quick nod. "Yeah."

The path was clear of BOW's anyway.

* * *

It was muggy outside and there was no breeze. Just hot, damp, _still_ air. But it was outside. _He_ was outside.

Piers allowed himself a moment to look around. So bright. So much neon and fire. It was just like the last time he'd been in the city. It probably wasn't a good thing that it didn't look like anything had changed. Well, maybe not _anything_. Piers's gaze made it to Ada. She was looking at something up and to the left, to the east of their position.

Hostiles? He couldn't help but wonder. He didn't see any. "What?" Piers asked. "What are you looking at?"

"Our ride out of here," Ada replied, pointing.

A chopper could be seen in the distance, on a rooftop.

"We don't even know if it's operational," Piers protested. "Or who it actually belongs to."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you not to sweat the small stuff?" Ada teased. She started to walk away, easily stepping over and around the rubble and debris that decorated the landscape.

"Is this how you always do things?" Piers asked.

Ada glanced back. "Pretty much."

"What then?" Piers paused, giving Ada a chance to speak up, if she were so inclined. She didn't. "_Where_ then?"

"Right to her doorstep," Ada murmured. Somehow, her voice was both silk and razor blades at the same time.

"Can I get a zip code for this doorstep?" Piers asked.

Ada said only, "It's what she wants, after all."

"City, state, country?" Piers paused and finally deadpanned, "_Continent_?"

Ada turned back to look at him. It wasn't that he didn't deserve answers, really. "North America."

"United States?" Piers dared to guess. He looked down and grimaced as something crunched under his feet. Probably what had been a person at some point.

Well, it wasn't much, but it was something. Ada Wong was working for a _woman_, out of _North America_, Piers was on his way to steal a chopper with her, and he'd just stepped on—scratch that, _through_—what was left of someone's face. And it was still the best day he'd had in a long time.

"Wait—when we ran into you in that facility and you... tossed that flashbang and took off while Chris and Leon were arguing over what to do with you-"

Well, well... Carla sure got around. "Refresh my memory," Ada requested.

Piers gave her an odd look. Then he smiled. "Never mind."

Seemed if Ada wanted any information from Piers, she was going to have to give him something in return. She hadn't expected him to pull anything like that. He was catching on. To how much, though, Ada couldn't be sure. She had to admit she was quite curious about the finer details of his interaction with her mysterious double, but it would have to wait.

Needless to say, it was a quiet journey to the skyscraper the helicopter sat atop. Probably a swanky corporate building at one point. Or luxury apartments. Not that it mattered. Just that the chopper was still there and in good shape when Ada and Piers reached it. And that it _wasn't_ a BSAA bird. Ada'd have to knock Piers out and drag him on board if that was the case. She didn't figure he'd go along with a plan that involved taking off in the very chopper that'd been sent to rescue him... _without_ the people who'd come along to do the rescuing.

* * *

Ada had been there, Leon was sure of it. It wasn't so surprising to see 9mm casings scattered around but the crossbow bolts—one stuck right in the wall and surrounded by some dried, dark, sticky residue, no less—combined with Chris's intel were proof enough for Leon. She had been there, and she'd done some fighting there, at some point. With who, or _what_ was anybody's guess. Hell, there was no guarantee she was even still in the facility. Ada _or_ Chris's partner.

He could've been the one she was fighting. He'd been infected, after all. Leon had seen what Deborah Harper went through, experienced all of those 'down but not out' moments firsthand. And Simmons—don't anybody get him started on Simmons. All those times he shrunk back down to something resembling a human, only to evolve into something even bigger, stronger, less in control of himself, and harder to drop.

It was expecting a lot, holding out hope that Piers would react to infection like Sherry had, all those years ago, and that whatever measures Ada had taken were working. She was taking care of him, wasn't she? How she'd fallen into that role, Leon hadn't the slightest idea, but that was the role he'd given her, and was convinced she'd given herself. It was gonna take something pretty impressive to convince him otherwise.

Jake and Sherry had led the way since they knew the layout of the complex, neither inclined to slow down for anything. The place was clear so far. Some of the blood and other... fluids seemed to be pretty fresh—recent kills.

"Surveillance room's this way," Jake called out, and took off, almost ahead of his words.

Chris was right behind him. Leon and Sherry shook their heads in unison then looked to one another. Sherry stifled a laugh. Leon wasn't quite as amused. Sherry'd been right up there with Jake just a moment before.

Sherry offered a quiet, "Come on."

In the security room, Jake was already operating the surveillance system, and grumbling, "Can't fucking see," as he switched from one camera to another.

"Is it functional?" Leon was the one to ask.

"Works fine, just can't see shit with the power out. Wasn't like this when we busted outta here."

Sherry moved in and took a look at the monitors. The only thing she could make out was a dark corridor; it _looked_ like the area she'd been kept in but she couldn't be certain. "That was before a tank tore through the building, remember?"

"Ah, shut up," Jake grumbled, as he went to switch cameras.

Sherry's hand came down over his. "Wait—"

"Yeah, I see it too," he agreed.

There it was, on the monitor... movement. There wasn't enough light to tell what was moving, but it was something, _someone_. _Two_ someones, side by side.

"Chris," Sherry called out. "I just saw something."

"Alright."

"What's the plan?" Leon asked, focusing his attention on Chris.

Sooner or later—it was looking like sooner—they were going to find Ada and Piers, and they were both going to have to face the truth, whatever it turned out to be.

"We split up. We keep eyes in here, on those monitors, so we aren't pursuing them blind. I'm going out there, after them. I don't care which one of you comes with me," was Chris's answer.

Jake stepped up. "Then what the hell are we waiting for?"

He and Sherry shared a quick nod, and she offered, "Be careful."

Jake looked offended. "When am I not careful?"

"Always...?"

Leon attempted to intervene. "We'll be watching you guys from here, as well as we can, at least. We'll warn you if we see anything that looks like trouble."

"Roger that." Chris actually smiled a little and headed for the doorway with Jake right behind him.

Jake huffed, and mocked Sherry under his breath, "'Always.'"

As they began their search, Chris and Jake heard Sherry's voice through their earpieces. "From what I can tell, those figures were on the feed for the sleeping quarters."

"I know where it is," Jake was quick to respond and step in front of Chris.

"How about now? Where are they now?" Chris asked.

"They haven't shown up again." This time it was Leon who spoke up. "Or maybe we just can't see them. The rate we're cycling through the cameras, it's possible we just keep missing them, but not likely."

Chris scoffed. "So what the hell do we do? Start knocking on doors?"

"You won't have to. They're all open, since the power's out," was Sherry's response.

"Hang on a minute—go back to the locker room," Leon said, suddenly, leaving Jake and Chris to wonder what he'd seen.

They exchanged a look and without a word—they didn't need to speak to know what the other was thinking—they headed for the locker room. Jake simply nodded his head in the direction they needed to go and Chris allowed him to lead.

Leon and Sherry watched the locker room for a minute. In the dark it was hard to tell, but what from what they could see, it was a single person... or something shaped like one, against the wall, and it wasn't moving.

The realization hit Leon and Sherry at the same time—they'd left Jake and Chris hanging. They were probably already almost to the locker room on their own. Neither one of them was especially patient, after all.

"Chris, where are you?" Leon asked, warily.

"Headed for that locker room. The hell did you guys see in there?" Chris replied.

"Not sure. Doesn't seem to be moving. Could just be someone who didn't make it. Just be careful. Looks to be about my size, backed against the wall. He's upright, though."

"Just one?" Chris asked, that dangerous gritty, gruff tone present in his voice.

"Yeah."

That had damn well better not be Piers Leon was describing. That had damn well better not be Piers Leon was _seeing_. A few minutes before that was all Chris had wanted—to hear that he was in the building, they had a visual, and he was near. 'Not moving' and 'backed against the wall' wasn't part of the description he was hoping for, though.

"Come on!" Jake shouted. When Chris glared at him, he continued with, "That could be your partner in there, right? What the fuck are you waiting for?"

When the kid was right... Well, he could be damn irritating, but he was still right. Chris kicked open the locker room door, readied his shotgun, and rushed inside. He ran for the wall as soon as he saw it. Of course it wasn't moving; it wasn't a person. Chris recognized it, though, and he understood how Leon and Sherry mistook it for one.

A BSAA uniform. _Piers's_ BSAA uniform, right there on display. Chris drove his fist into the wall.

Just then, Leon's voice came through, "What's going on in there?"

Jake had stayed back by the door. He answered, "Found his uniform."

"His _uniform_?" Sherry was the one to ask.

"Yup," Jake confirmed. "What's left of it, anyway. Hung up on the wall like it's the friggin' Mona Lisa or something."

"Why would anybody do that?" Sherry asked.

Jake eyed Chris as he replied to Sherry. "To cause a psychotic break?"

"She's toying with us. Don't know why the fuck I expected anything else," Chris practically growled. He turned away from Piers's uniform and extended both arms in a very 'come and get it' kind of manner and declared, "Come on out, then! We all know you're here! So come the fuck out already!"

"Chris!" Leon shouted.

"I'm not hearin' it, Kennedy. I don't wanna hear about how I've got her all wrong or any of that shit. How else do you explain this, huh?"

"Not now, Chris. You wanted a fight, looks like you're gettin' one. Movement just down the hall from you, headed your way. You two better get ready."

Hardly a moment later, the door at the opposite and of the locker room opened. But it wasn't Ada and Piers that crossed the threshold. It wasn't J'avo either, though.

* * *

The inside of the building was a disaster, but even its current state, it was clear the place had been high class. So it wasn't really that surprising when Ada and Piers had to square off against a hallway full of infected wearing suits and ties, blouses and skirts. Now the walls were wearing _them_. Piers's scrubs, too, or maybe the blood and guts just stood out on them—on him—that much more.

Piers rounded the corner first, having gotten slightly ahead of Ada, and called out, "Elevator." He looked back and added, "Power seems to be on."

She gave him a nod. "Alright then." She pressed the 'up' button and waited for the doors to open.

A bell chimed and the lift doors opened.

Ada stepped inside the elevator and let her finger hover over the number panel. She offered a sort of flirty, "Going up?"

Piers smirked and stepped inside.

As the doors were closing on him and Ada, they both saw it... More suits. But there was something different about these guys. They didn't seem like J'avo. They stopped when they saw Ada and Piers in that elevator and it was quick, so quick, but it was a 'gotcha' look. It was a look of recognition.

"Maybe we should've held the door," Piers muttered.

"They'll just have to catch the next one," was Ada's response. "Next chopper, too."

"You noticed it, too, then?" Piers wondered.

"Noticed what?" This was going to be a long elevator ride, Ada thought, if they'd hardly reached the third floor and he was already back to asking questions.

"They didn't look like J'avo." Piers chuckled, but only a bit and he didn't seem particularly amused. "They looked more like Secret Service. Or the mob."

The mob was a closer guess, Ada mused. They were likely sent by Colette, by The Family. The suits, the assault rifles, the sunglasses.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Ada lied.

"I don't know about that," Piers said, awfully casually. It seemed some of Ada's nonchalance had rubbed off on him. "Doesn't seem like you have to _guess_ who they are."

"I told you there were people coming for us. I don't know about you, but I'm flattered they dressed up. In fact, I'd be insulted if they hadn't." Ada played it cool.

"So who sent them?" Piers asked. No smirk, none of that semi-playful tone of a moment before. He was a completely different man. "I'd like to at least know who I'm running from. Better chance of finding that out than figuring out who the hell I'm running _with_, right?"

"The less you know, the better," Ada insisted. She leaned back against the elevator wall.

Piers pounded the emergency stop button then moved in close to Ada, practically pinning her against the wall.

"You're compromising our lead on them," Ada whispered. She didn't stoop to batting her eyelashes—she'd _never_—but she did attempt to catch his gaze. And soften it. She had to win him back; she couldn't lose him. Not now.

"Mmm hmm." Piers didn't budge. He wasn't falling for it.

"It's obviously going to take them a while to climb 25 flights of stairs, but still..."

"And here we are, just standing still," Piers smugly agreed.

Ada supposed she could try him—fight him. They each had their own advantages, and he had one obvious disadvantage. But so did she and he'd figured it out. It was only a matter of time.

"Exactly. We're the only ones not moving right now, Piers, and we can't afford that," Ada attempted logic.

"Correction," Piers said, backing away just a couple of steps. "_You_ can't afford that. These people want me. Doesn't seem they'd care much if anything happens to you, long as they get what they want from me."

Ada managed a laugh, but it was clear she wasn't amused. "The same goes for you, once they 'get what they want from you'. Or once they realize they won't, whichever comes sooner."

"Tell me one thing then," Piers said, less threatening, less raw and throaty than before.

"One thing?" Ada echoed. "Any one thing?"

"Did you save me just to sell me out? What the hell is your game? What do you stand to gain in all of this?"

"Should I pick one and answer you?" Ada wondered.

"Forget it," Piers muttered. He turned away without responding and released the emergency stop.

It was quiet for a moment, as Ada watched Piers watch the numbers above the elevator doors increase—22, 23, 24... Finally, she said, "Not _just_ to sell you out, you wouldn't believe me if I told you, and... freedom."

Twenty five. The elevator stopped and the doors opened.

* * *

**A/N: Not my best, sorry. :( I'll try to make up for it with the next chapter! Change of location for everyone and maybe a face-to-face with Ada's employer...  
**


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Resident Evil characters. It really bums me out because, clearly, I would do such awesome shit with the series if I did. Like make an alternate outfit for Piers where he's just in his underwear. A nice pair of boxer-briefs, I think. Not too tight, though, because I don't want it to lower his virtual sperm count; I plan on having his babies, you know.**

**Summary:** **Piers has been saved by Ada, but surely, it can't have been out of the goodness of her heart...? Seems she has a use for him, or maybe it's just her new employer that does...**

* * *

The suits, the sunglasses, the _guns_—they looked just like the guys that'd 'killed' Ada Wong. Sniped her from that chopper then took off. In those couple of seconds before she dropped she made it clear that she recognized them; she knew who'd done her in.

_Now_ those same sunglasses wearing Suits were standing in front of Chris and Jake. Probably not the same guys, but the same brand—bred from the same stock. Suits bought off the same rack. One of them raised his hand to his ear, ready to relay some kind of message to someone else, some_where_ else.

"Huh uh," Chris said, simply, gesturing with his shotgun.

Jake had the other one in his sights, his Nine-Oh-Nine locked and loaded, and giving the guy a 'try it' sort of grin.

"Who sent you here?" Chris demanded.

No answer.

"What are you after?"

Again, there was no reply.

"Maybe we just aren't speaking their language," Jake said, smirking.

Chris scoffed. "Yeah? What language is that?"

Jake moved in closer to the man he was covering and pressed the barrel of his gun to the man's chest—not dead center, rather, off to the left. "Talk's cheap, you know? It's not so hard to get someone to speak up... if you know how to ask."

Chris watched Jake for just a moment, but not long enough to actually consider what he was suggesting, or even to figure out if he was seriously suggesting it or just trying to rattle the enemy.

Jake snatched the earpiece from his Suit's ear and offered an amused, "Appreciate it," when the man sneered at him.

It wasn't long before someone attempted to make contact. A male voice came through. Jake gave Chris a nod to let him know he was hearing something. "We've spotted Ada Wong. She's headed for the roof. Nivans is with her."

"The roof?" Jake asked, before he realized what he was doing. His surprise went over well, luckily for him.

The man on the other end continued, unfazed, "Yup, and we're screwed if they get to the chopper first. She won't hesitate to take it and leave us stranded here."

Jake smirked and it didn't go unnoticed by Chris, or the Suits they both had at gunpoint. "_Our_ status?" he asked. "We're doing fucking fantastic. Thanks for asking." He removed the earpiece, dropped it, and stepped on it.

"You got damn lucky with that," Chris scolded. "What'd you hear?"

"These two got buddies around here somewhere, some building with a helipad on the roof, or room enough to land a bird, at least. They spotted her, and _he's_ with her."

"_With her_? What the hell does that mean?" Chris demanded.

"Didn't think to ask," Jake shot back. "They were spotted headed for the roof, for the chopper up there." Jake directed his attention to the Suits. "_Their_ chopper. Looks like you guys are gonna have to get in touch with your travel agent. I don't think you're gonna make that flight."

"You think this shit is funny?" Chris turned to Jake. "Think this is all some kind of fucking joke?"

Jake seemed genuinely surprised, shouting, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

The exchange was short, but lasted just long enough that the Suit Chris had been watching—had been holding at gunpoint—decided to speak. _Into his earpiece_. Chris hadn't thought to take his away like Jake had. "_Chris Redfield's_ onto us. And he's got Jake Wesker with him."

The Suit dropped. Or he _was dropped_, rather, when the backside of Chris's shotgun made contact with the side of his head.

Chris retrieved the earpiece from the man's unconscious form and put it on his free ear. "Did you hear that? Chris Redfield's onto you. And I'm gonna be your Goddamn _shadow_ until I get my partner back—every last one of you."

Jake jerked his head at the Suit he'd been... _guarding_ then gave Chris a look and asked, "You wanna put him to bed too?"

Chris smirked and approached the man.

* * *

It was hard to see what was going on inside that locker room but Leon and Sherry could hear every word of it. They had confirmation that Ada was nearby and that Piers was with her. _Was_, being the operative word. From the sound of it, they were on their way out and if someone, presumably, in the same building as they were wasn't going to be able to catch them... Well, four somebodies who the hell knows how far away probably weren't either.

"Someone's been using this computer recently," Sherry mused, suddenly.

"Hmm?" Leon turned to face her.

Sherry nodded. "And not just for the surveillance system. For... looking up data on test subjects, the C-virus—they even used it to access an outside network. Whoever did this is really good."

Leon let out a little chuckle.

Sherry understood. "You think it was her?"

"I'm _sure_ it was. Can you pull up the history?"

"I can try. I can probably only pull up as much information as she's willing to let us see. Well, I mean..." Sherry stopped herself.

Leon was quick to agree, "No, you're right." He uselessly watched the locker room feed on the monitor as he listened to the click-clack of Sherry's typing in the background. There wasn't much going on at the moment.

It had been tense for a while there; Chris and Jake had been confronted by hostiles—human ones, no less. It wasn't clear how many of them were out there, either, but it was sure more than the two they'd run into. They were in communication with another team somewhere else in the city—the team that had spotted Ada and Piers.

Ada and Piers were likely their actual targets.

If Leon had to guess what was going on in the locker room now, and he pretty much did, Chris was stuffing someone in one of the lockers. Yelling, cussing, metal banging, and dark, blurred figures crowded around the lockers... Yup, that's exactly what he was doing. The next thing Leon heard confirmed it.

Chris's voice came through Leon and Sherry's earpieces, declaring, "Oh, shut the fuck up in there."

The sound of more metal clanking followed.

"Your buddy'll let you out when he wakes up. Lucky for all of us, that ain't gonna happen for a while," Jake's voice added.

"Do I even want to know?" Sherry asked.

"Nope," was Leon's quick reply.

She laughed a little. Her amusement was short-lived, though. "Oh my God..." she whispered, and frantic mouse-clicking followed.

"_What_?" Leon was at her side in an instant.

"It's _my_ data, from when I was here. Why would she have been looking at that? Why mine and not...?" Sherry wondered out loud.

"Without any sort of notes, there's no way to know," Leon said, deadpan. He knew better than to hope Ada had left any. If there was a clue to be found in Sherry's data, and there must've been, Ada had found it, and now they'd have to find it too, without any help from her.

As if knowing exactly what he'd been thinking, Sherry asked, "Don't suppose there's any chance she left any notes?"

Before Leon could answer, Chris's voice came through again, "Leon, Sherry. We're leaving. Meet us at the stairs that lead to the main house, now."

"No!" Sherry shouted.

"There's no time, Sherry. We have to move," Chris insisted. He was stern but he never lost his cool with her. If it were Leon or Jake questioning him, he'd have flipped his lid, probably dropped a few f-bombs and maybe raised his fists.

"I found something, Chris. I think it's important. I need to know more."

"She has Piers, she has access to a chopper, and she's a hell of a lot closer to it than we are. We have to move. _Now_."

"I understand," was Sherry's flat reply. "I'll be along when I can, then. You should go too, Leon. Chris and Jake may need your help. We know the streets aren't clear."

Leon's "No way," was hardly audible, easily overpowered by Jake's protest of, "Bullshit!"

They could practically _hear_ him stomping his way back to the surveillance room.

Jake's next remarks were directed at Chris, though Leon and Sherry were privy to them as well. "I came along to help you get your partner back because I owed him a debt. Trading _my_ partner for him ain't part of the deal."

"I'll be fine. I'll rendezvous with you all when I'm done... sorting... this... out." The pauses in Sherry's words and the fact that her typing and mouse-clicking had all but stopped made it clear that she'd found something.

It was so quiet and yet it was worlds louder than whatever Chris and Jake were shouting about, wherever they were. Then that died out too.

Through their earpieces Leon and Sherry heard Chris's somber voice, "Forget it. We're heading your way."

"Chris?" Sherry asked.

There was no response.

"Chris," Leon called out, and allowed Chris a moment to reply. When Chris didn't bite, Leon continued, "You two go after them and Sherry and I'll stay here."

Finally, Chris spoke, "They're already gone."

* * *

_Ada really should've taken her own advice. She was the one who told Leon's agent friend to put her own sister down, after all. And here she couldn't even kill a perfect stranger? Wait, was she asking herself?_

_ Maybe it was the 'perfect' part she was having trouble getting past. Except, Piers Nivans wasn't perfect. He wasn't perfect, and yet, he _was_. He was a little bit big to keep in her back pocket but it'd sure be nice having him there, and it'd make taking The Family down just a little bit easier._

_ Assuming he didn't die on her before she could put her plan into action. Or turn on her. At this point, the former actually seemed more likely. _

_ Ada was tempted to ask how it had happened to him—the who, what, when, where, and why of that giant grey mess of a right arm he was struggling to drag around. She didn't figure he'd answer, though. She wasn't sure he even could anymore. He needed to save his strength, after all. At the very least, he had to last long enough for Ada to get a sample of Carla's virus from him._

_ She'd already convinced herself he was going to do so much more for her, though—_be_ so much more for her._

_ They'd made it inside Carla's old research facility—one of them, anyway. The one she'd stashed Birkin and Muller at for the past six months while she worked to top herself, create an even stronger virus, using the antibodies swimming around inside of Wesker Jr. It was the very virus coursing through Piers's veins right now. Maybe someday she'd find out the answer to that million dollar question: how did Piers go from being in possession of the sample to... the sample being in possession of him._

_ But first, Ada was going to get an answer to a question she hadn't asked: just how strong was he now?_

_ "Wait here," was all Ada said, ducking out from under Piers's left arm, where she'd been shouldering as much of his weight as she could. She leaned him against the wall. "I'm going to have a quick look around."_

_ Piers huffed a little and sagged back against the wall. He turned his head to the left, to the doorway Ada was intent on passing through._

_ She followed the hallway to its end and entered the communication room. Everything seemed to be in working order, despite the damage all around. She was hoping to pull up a map—get the layout of the place. Find a vial—all the supplies she'd need to get that sample, really. Among other things. _

_ If Carla had truly made enhancements to the virus using Jake Muller's antibodies, she had to have some practical data around somewhere, right? If she was working to outsmart his immunity to it... she had to have a vaccine around somewhere. She'd have made one to test, so that she could work to make an even stronger virus immune to said vaccine, and so forth, yes? An endless back and forth until she'd created the ultimate virus, one even _she_ couldn't cure—only then would it be truly unbeatable. _

_ Carla may have finished with her C-virus enhancements before Birkin and Muller got away but she definitely still had other plans for the both of them; one look at the damage done to the place trying to keep them from escaping made that clear. _

_Ada couldn't think any longer on any of it, though, as something else demanded her attention in that moment._

Piers.

_ Call it a roar, a growl—anything you please—nothing could do it justice; nothing could capture what Ada truly heard. Pain... no, _agony_. _

_ Ada rushed back to the foyer where she'd left Piers. He was no longer slumped against the wall, but down on his knees, electricity surging all around him, emanating from his right arm. While the last time Piers had shown that sort of power, it had been calculated and controlled, this was anything but. _

_ Well, that was gonna make things difficult._

_ Ada knew better than to get too close. She'd learned that lesson a bit ago; she was still jittery and tingly from it, to tell the truth._

_ She sighed. "I had such plans for you, Piers," and readied her crossbow._

_ She fired and hit her target, dead on. The crossbow bolt stuck in Piers's right arm, high up, but still below the shoulder, and he let out a loud hiss and another aimless blast of electricity. _

_ Ada fired again. And again. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't let herself aim at anything other than that arm of his. He was pinned to the wall now, since she'd put a couple of arrows through his hand... thing, in addition to landing several higher up. He pulled and pulled, trying to get at her, not caring if the entire arm came off, it seemed._

_ There wasn't much blood, come to think of it. A little, sure, but mostly just some weird, greyish _goo_, and something that almost looked like ash._

_ Something in Piers's arm popped, or tore, or _both_ and he screamed, reeling back and reaching over to clutch his right arm with his left hand. He looked down at himself, at his mutated side, then down at the goo and whatever else that had gotten on his left hand—his human one._

_ It was a look of realization for both Piers and Ada; he wasn't completely gone. _

_ Piers looked up at Ada suddenly, no longer struggling against his rather crude... restraints. "Do it already! Or give me a gun and I'll do it myself!" _

_ Ada neared Piers, stopping just shy of him and grabbed an arrow, though she didn't ready her crossbow. "I guess today's the day I get my Girl Scout badge in battlefield amputations."_

* * *

**A/N: I'm not entirely sure I made up for the last chapter. XD But I did finally explain what happened to Piers's arm... Kind of. Feedback is always appreciated.**


	9. Chapter 8

** Disclaimer: The Resident Evil characters don't belong to me. Just the action figures I own. I make them look like they're having sex. A lot. **

**Summary:** **Piers has been saved by Ada, but surely, it can't have been out of the goodness of her heart...? Seems she has a use for him, or maybe it's just her new employer that does...**

* * *

"Well well, Supergirl," Jake murmured, pulling up a chair next to Sherry.

She just sighed and stared at the screen.

"You're just... all up in everything, aren't you?" Jake continued. He leaned in.

"No, but my blood is," Sherry said. After a moment she quietly added, "Apparently."

"Hey," Jake called out.

Sherry didn't respond, didn't so much as look his way. She could see his reflection in her computer monitor, though: worry. It was pretty rare for Jake to wear an expression of concern. She'd only ever seen it once before, to tell the truth. It was right before they'd busted in and confronted Simmons; he was trying to reassure her.

He was trying to convince her everything was gonna be fine. He was wrong.

"_Hey_," Jake called out again, more firmly this time.

Sherry looked over. It was weird to be with Jake... and no one else. No one else and no _fighting, _anyway. They were home now, for lack of a better word. Stateside again, at least. Once she'd backed up all of Ada's data—all Ada'd left for anyone else to see, anyway—they'd left. Chris had heard confirmation from whoever those men were that were after Ada, or Piers, or both of them, that they were too late. There was no reason to stay.

The mission was a failure. All they had now was data chips full of... Well, whatever it was, it was up to Sherry to find out.

"What?" she finally asked.

"_You_ saved him." Jake meant what he was saying, even if Sherry didn't think it was entirely true. _He_ was the one with the special blood, after all, not her.

"Universal donor," she murmured.

"Huh?" was the only response she got.

Sherry explained, "My blood. I'm O. It's the universal donor." She turned away from him again, and pretended to be very focused on the information displayed on the computer monitor.

"Right, right. I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that if we took _your_ arm off, it'd probably grow back." Jake paused. "It _would_, right?"

At that, Sherry laughed, but only a bit. "Let's not find out."

"I mean, your back—" Jake paused and made a weird slurping sound, "—sealed itself right up after I pulled part of a _helicopter_ out of it."

"It wasn't that dramatic," Sherry insisted.

"The fuck it wasn't it," Jake argued. "So, what've you got?"

"She gave him my blood. I just don't know why."

"She didn't say?" Jake seemed surprised.

"She might've."

"It's not in here?" Jake tapped at the computer screen.

"Oh, I'm sure it's in here, some kind of clue... I just... haven't gotten that far yet."

"Because...?"

"I haven't looked," Sherry answered.

Jake leaned forward and to the right, blocking Sherry's view of the screen to the point that she _had_ to look at him as he asked, "And why the fuck not?"

"Maybe I don't want to know," she admitted.

"Well, I do." Jake smirked, chuckled, and gave Sherry a little nudge. "So work your clicky-clicky magic and let's figure this shit out."

"Alright, alright," Sherry muttered. It was clear she'd cheered up some, though.

"You could have worse people breathing down your neck, you know," Jake said, that cocky half-smile of his perfectly in place.

"Oh, I know," Sherry agreed. There was something almost teasing about her tone, though.

On the computer monitor it could be seen that she was opening a new file.

* * *

"Where the hell have you been?" Helena asked. She looked like she was trying not to laugh at Leon.

"Took some personal time. I thought you knew," was his attempt at a nonchalant response.

"Uh huh." Helena clearly wasn't buying it.

"Keyword: personal," he added.

Helena smirked. "Well, you might be taking some sick time soon, depending on what Hunnigan decides to do with you... or _to_ you. _To_ you sounds more like it. Yeah."

"Hunnigan?" Leon echoed.

He'd never seen or heard Hunnigan mad. Not _mad_ mad, at least. A little frustrated here and there, worried, frazzled, when things got dicey—sure. Nothing that'd result in him being on the receiving end of the smackdown Helena was alluding to, though.

She nodded. "You went offline. She's been trying to get you since practically the minute you left."

"I'm here now." He stopped for a moment. "You seem awfully cheery. Any particular reason why?"

Helena replied with a simple, "You'll see soon enough."

Leon chuckled. He wasn't really amused, though. He'd just gotten back from a pretty shitty mission, after all—unofficial, and failed—and now it seemed he was about to get reamed.

He followed Helena into the briefing room. Hunnigan was already in there, with an imposing looking man in a dress shirt and tie that she quickly introduced as the interim Chief Security Advisor—Simmons' replacement. The man didn't speak, just addressed everyone with a nod and narrowed, judging eyes.

"Now that _everybody_ is here—" Hunnigan glanced at Leon. "Let's begin. As we've recently discovered, thanks to the tireless work of agents Harper and Kennedy, Derek Simmons and his family have deep connections to the world of bioterrorism, including committing acts of bioterrorism on U.S. soil. We all know he was behind the attack on Tall Oaks, and we now know he had ties to the Raccoon City incident in 1998. We've been monitoring his relatives and all known acquaintances since his death." Hunnigan paused and opened the folder she'd been holding. She pulled out a file and gave it to Leon.

Leon cleared his throat and accepted the papers; he assumed they were being given to him because he was the only one who hadn't seen the information yet. Or Hunnigan was just trying to slyly rub it in. Or it didn't mean anything at all and he'd just let Helena get into his head. She was smirking; Leon could tell that much when he glanced over at her.

The front page looked like a personnel file. Colette Simmons, younger sister of Derek Simmons. Quite a bit younger, too, it would seem. Leon's age, single, never married, and there was no profession listed, simply the word _socialite_. She'd been top of her class all the way from boarding school through college—Ivy League, of course. Her career seemed to consist of attending parties and fundraisers, typically those for medical research—the edgier the better. The photo attached to the top right corner of the page was little better than DMV quality but it still showcased thick, full lips pursed in dissatisfaction over something, big honey brown eyes, and long, wavy red hair.

"So what's this _Colette Simmons_ up to?" Leon asked, after a moment.

"Ms. Simmons has been snooping around for information on Neo-Umbrella activities and facilities overseas, for one," Hunnigan answered. "In China, specifically."

"And?" Leon asked, a little warily. He just had a feeling he wasn't gonna like the next part.

It was Helena who chimed in with the next bit of information. "She seems intent on going after those she believes responsible for what happened to former Chief Security Advisor Simmons. Anyone who betrayed him." She made a point to lock eyes with Leon. "_Anyone_."

Ada.

"That's what we believe, anyway. It's quite possible there's more to Ms. Simmons' agenda. If either of you have any ideas, please—" Hunnigan let her voice trail off on purpose. When she didn't get any sort of reply, she added, "Don't hesitate to share them."

"So it's _our_ mission to find out what she's up to, right?" Leon guessed.

The new Chief Security Advisor finally stepped up. Didn't say anything, though, just gave a nod then left the room.

"Whoever provided the footage that exonerated you two in the Tall Oaks incident is a target, Leon," Hunnigan said, simply. She cocked her head to the side and put her hands on her hips.

"Oh, that's not the only reason they're a target," Leon admitted, with a chuckle.

"I have to ask," Hunnigan said, sounding almost like she didn't want to do it. "There's no lead in this that isn't worth pursuing, Leon, Helena."

"We'll stop her, no matter what, or _who_ she's after," Helena answered for Leon. She gave him a nod right after.

He smiled slightly. Helena had just saved him from answering to Hunnigan, but he was definitely gonna have to answer to _her_ now.

* * *

Ada hated seeing the mouse on the left side of the keyboard. For one, she didn't especially like sharing—never had. But this went beyond that. It meant Piers had been using the computer. He did it on purpose, too. It was like he wanted her to know he was looking into things—into her. They were partners for now because they didn't have much other choice, but he had other _ideas_.

Ada may have had an ulterior motive in this but Piers had another life outside of this.

Ada _didn't_, and every time she walked in and saw the mouse over on the left side, she knew Piers was one step closer to figuring that out.

Things had been quiet since getting out of China, so this had sort of become their game. Ada would check up on The Family, see what Colette was doing, take a quick peek at the BSAA, see how Chris Redfield was faring in what was no doubt, his tireless search for Piers. Then she'd erase all traces of what she'd been doing. Except the parts that made it clear there was still a direct threat to Piers out there, of course; he still had pursuers that needed to be dealt with, even if they weren't on the move at the moment. And he needed Ada to deal with them. Sometimes it seemed _she_ needed convincing of that more than he did nowadays.

Piers would snoop around and look through Ada's history, that which he could access, anyway. Then he'd do his own _research. _Whatever he could find on one 'Ada Wong'. It was never much but it didn't keep him from looking anywhere and everywhere and making sure she knew he was still suspicious as ever when it came to her.

Ada sat down and moved the mouse to the right side. Time to get to work. Time to see what Piers had been up to, what his latest little online project had been.

Nothing. He'd cleared all his results; he was learning. Well, not learning... It was obviously something he'd long known how to do and was choosing _not_ to do for effect. Piers was becoming more and more like she was, it seemed. Ada couldn't help but wonder what he thought he'd found.

Right on cue, there he was, wearing a snug black t-shirt, faded, holey jeans and a look of disappointment. The t-shirt and jeans looked good on him—fit him rather nicely, made him look alive and well. The expression, though—not so much.

Hmm, disappointment wasn't quite right, Ada thought. The more she studied Piers's features, the clearer it became that the look he was giving her was something else, something _worse_: pity. It was like he felt sorry for her and was trying to hide it.

Ada had been looking at him over her shoulder. Facing Piers and that imperfect poker face of his head-on just wasn't something she wanted to do in that moment. She turned away completely before asking, "Finally found out about something worth hiding from me?"

"Carla Radames."

* * *

**A/N: No Chris this chapter? He'll be back next time around, and I think he'll have a visitor...**

**Oh, and I know at the end of her campaign, Ada mentions all that's left is to erase all traces of her identity being stolen. But for reals, where's the fun in that? Also, if she truly did that... wouldn't that sort of mean she _couldn_'t clear her name? Wouldn't proving her identity was stolen be better...? Or just ditching the name Ada Wong altogether, at this point...?  
**

**Either way, I suppose it's AU, me having there still be some info out there, or info Ada didn't get to, but it was necessary to my story, so that Piers could discover at least a hint of what was really goin' on back in Edonia and later, China. **


	10. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: None of the Resident Evil characters, locations, etc. are mine, and it makes me angry. **

**Summary:** **Piers has been saved by Ada, but surely, it can't have been out of the goodness of her heart...? Seems she has a use for him, or maybe it's just her new employer that does...**

**A/N: I think I even got around to explaining what that employer actually wants with Piers in this chapter! Go me. XD And sorry it took so long to update. I'm a dick.  
**

* * *

Leaving men wondering, it was what Ada did best. And she did a lot of things well, if she said so herself. She usually enjoyed it more than this. She usually enjoyed it, period. But something about this time was different.

It'd been different with Leon, too, but still fun… There was always a flicker of hope there; just enough that she could pull a little enjoyment out of it all—a spark of light among all the lies. Even taking off with the Plagas sample hadn't cost Ada all of Leon's faith in her. She helped him get out of there, too, after all. Even if he had to make his escape without that particular spoil. It was enough for him to trust she wasn't all bad, and that not having her figured out wasn't either.

Leaving Piers behind was already proving to be a very different process. For one, it wasn't shaping up to be any fun at all, and the more Ada thought about it, the more it seemed she was the one who doing all the wondering lately. He had plenty of answers now, didn't he? Resourceful little…

Ada had known all along that she needed Piers to trust her for her plan to work, yet, at the same time it was the last thing she ever _wanted_ to happen. She didn't want him trusting her because he'd found out the truth, after all. She was going to _trick_ him into trusting her, naturally.

What did it matter? It was all for nothing, anyway. Now that he'd figured her out. Found things out that he shouldn't have been able to. Probably found out about Carla Radames through something Colette had let slip. Her information had never been out there before, yet, all of the sudden, he got it—he got her.

It was her own fault, really. Not getting the sample right off, like she should've. Then hatching that ridiculous idea that she'd show up on Colette Simmons' doorstep with her precious sample—all six feet of him, alive and well—and challenge the bitch to take her best shot. Piers hadn't been in any condition to refuse to cooperate with her. He was dead to the BSAA—to the _world_—and near-dead, in reality, when he first regained control of himself.

But things had changed. Time had passed. He'd recovered, and _Ada _had let him become too important to her plan, to _her_.

Ada wasn't the only one making plans that involved Piers, either... She tried to convince herself that was the real reason she was leaving, but she knew that wasn't entirely true.

_The Family._ Ada should've never involved herself with them.

* * *

"There's a nasty rumor going around," Hunnigan started. She gave Leon a look as she closed the door to the meeting room she'd just led him and Helena into.

"Is it about me?" he asked. It would explain why Hunnigan was looking at him that way.

"Isn't it always?" Helena smirked his way.

Helena, too.

"Anyway," Hunnigan took a moment. "It's not a rumor just yet but we can't afford for it to reach even _that_ state. It could completely discredit us, not to mention the problems it would create for the new Chief Security Advisor. It's something Colette Simmons was heard saying."

"So what's this _non_ rumor?" Leon asked. He didn't figure he was gonna like Hunnigan's answer very much.

"Ms. Simmons has stated that her brother is still alive."

"Her brother...?" Helena repeated, skepticism evident in her voice. "As in _Derek Simmons_?"

"That's right. She was heard saying that Derek Simmons' death was staged. _By the United States government_, or, and this is as good as a quote, 'a few misguided rogue entities within', and that everything that's happened was all some conspiracy against him. Oh, and 'once everything is cleared up, she's certain he'll be returned to power.'"

"That's ridiculous," Leon scoffed. He supposed Derek could've survived, in some form or another. It was probably possible. That virus brought him back from the brink how the hell many times? No way was he _human_ enough to return to his position as Chief Security Advisor.

He never had been.

Hunnigan nodded but waved Leon off nonetheless. "I agree, but in light of recent events... Those being the President's death, almost immediately followed by the death of the Chief Security Advisor, not to mention the eradication of Tall Oaks... Well, there are plenty of people out there who are just waiting for a good conspiracy theory to come along. If she were to go public with a statement like that—"

Damnit. Hunnigan was right.

Helena looked to Leon suddenly, her eyes wide with worry. "He could really be alive. Maybe she's telling the truth. Maybe he's the one pulling her puppet strings, just waiting for the right moment to make his grand return."

"She has to know she's being watched. Why let something like that slip?" Leon couldn't help but wonder.

"All part of the game, right? We're just pawns to people like Simmons, aren't we?"

"Leon, Helena," Hunnigan called out to both of them, sharply. "We've been treating this as a hoax—a bluff. If there is _any_ chance Derek Simmons is still alive... The threat level on this is through the roof."

"Either he's still alive or he's got a twin," was Helena's reply.

Leon raised an eyebrow and deadpanned, "A twin? Really?"

"She's gotta be prepared for someone to call her bluff, right? Don't tell me _Ms. Simmons_ doesn't have a plant of some kind—a double—ready to step up."

Hunnigan interjected, "We need to assume the worst. I'm not even sure what that is at this point." She looked at Helena—gave her the sort of expression that was usually reserved for Leon. "_Helena_. Whether it's actually Derek Simmons or his even eviler twin, or... Robo-Derek, I can't say. I'll confer with the Interim Chief Security Advisor and give you two your official orders as soon as I have them. I'm sure you can guess what this means, though."

Leon dared to guess, "We're going in."

"You're going in."

"Robo-Derek?"

* * *

Chris's apartment was a mess. It always had been, though. Still smoking, if the overflowing ashtray on the coffee table was any indication. Drinking, too, but not heavily, at least. Two empty beer bottles sat to the side of the ashtray. There wasn't any hard liquor around. Dead center of the table was an open pizza box with a couple of gnawed on crusts inside. A few magazines littered the table as well.

The couch and TV were nice—both relatively new, from the looks of it. The BSAA paid a decent wage, after all. Too few of their agents lived to enjoy that particular job perk, but still. The drawers were pretty barren, and Chris didn't have a personal computer, it would seem. Didn't keep one at home, anyway.

Searching his place hadn't taken long at all; it wasn't surprising. Now there was nothing left to do but wait for him to get back.

When Chris returned it was dark, outside, as well as inside his apartment. There was just enough light, though, for Chris to make out a figure sitting on his couch. He kicked the front door shut behind him with his heel but otherwise remained still.

"Who the fuck are you?" he demanded, reaching for his pistol.

There was no reply and the figure on the couch didn't move.

Right hand occupied with his weapon, Chris felt around on the wall behind him for the light switch with his left hand. "Lights are coming on. Hands up or I blow your head off."

One arm was raised. Chris figured that meant whoever this person was had a weapon in the other hand and didn't want to reveal it just yet.

"_Both_ hands, mother fucker," Chris said, letting out a little "Hah," as he finally felt the light switch beneath his fingers. He didn't hit the switch just yet.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Captain," was the reply Chris received as he flipped the light switch on.

"_Piers_?"

He had his hand over his face, trying to shield his eyes from the light—how the hell long had he been lurking there in the dark? —but it was definitely him.

"What the hell are you doing here? How the hell...?" Chris sort of stammered, making his way closer. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hug him, sock him in the face, or start pressing him for personal information to prove he _really_ was Piers. Sure as hell wasn't the reunion he'd envisioned.

"Long story," Piers said. Pretty casually, too, despite the circumstances.

Damn casually.

Chris tentatively holstered his gun. He looked his partner over, shaking his head the tiniest bit as he did. Nonchalant tone aside, there was no doubt this was the same man he'd left behind in China. Piers' right sleeve was empty and his eyes... There was something different about them.

Rebecca'd reported back to Chris that Piers wasn't 'entirely human', after all.

But the only part of him that'd mutated was his arm... and it was gone now, so... Chris shook his head again. _Yeah, right._ Even if that were true, he knew the BSAA wouldn't see it that way. Why the hell else was Jill retired now? Discharged as soon as they landed stateside, after Kijuju? _Yeah_. Piers had even less of a chance that she did. Infected _and_ an amputee.

"I need you to help me find Ada Wong," was the next thing Piers said, and it was just as calm and no-nonsense as his previous statement.

Chris was still looking him over. Shock was fading away, turning to something resembling suspicion. "Oh, we need to find Ada Wong, that's for sure. Pretty sure you're gonna be sittin' this one out, though, soldier." He chuckled. He reached out, as if to pat Piers on the arm then corrected himself and retracted his hand at the last second. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

Piers wasn't the slightest bit put off. "Not a chance."

"Piers," Chris grumbled. It was more like a growl.

"You're not my captain anymore, _Captain_," he reminded Chris with a smirk.

Okay, that was low. Playing the 'you're not the boss of me' card. Even if it was true.

"Then what the hell are you doing here?" Chris asked. He turned away from Piers and made a production of cleaning up his coffee table.

"I came to ask your help. She's going in alone because of me." There was a pleading tone to his voice. It was the first Piers had really sounded like Piers since he'd spoken.

Chris knew he couldn't let it faze him. "Going in where?"

"I think she's trying to protect me."

"_Going in where, Piers?_" Chris repeated his question. He shook his head when Piers' next statement had a chance to sink in. "Protect you? You think Ada Wong is doing something to protect you? What in the hell would make you think that?"

Piers ignored him. "And she's gonna get herself killed for it."

"You didn't answer me, Piers," Chris reminded him, continuing his 'cleaning'. At this point it consisted of straightening the stack of hot rod and gun magazines on the coffee table, and finally closing the lid on that old pizza box. The overfull ashtray was pushed to the floor in the process and a frustrated, "Goddamnit," escaped Chris's lips. He bent over to pick up the mess.

"You should really quit," Piers absently muttered. After a moment, he knelt over and began picking up cigarette butts, alongside Chris.

"I got it, thanks."

"She's innocent," Piers said, finally, dropping the last butt into the ashtray.

Chris snorted and wiped at the ash on his carpet. It only made it worse. "Yeah? She tell you that while she was holding you prisoner?"

"I found proof of it myself."

* * *

"_What do you want now?" Ada practically sighed as she spoke. There was no need for niceties at this point._

"_I called to apologize. I know I was a little harsh with you before. You really can't blame me, though. Your performance _was_ sub-par—" Colette's voice trailed off._

_Ada rolled her eyes. Someday... she was going to strangle that bitch. Someday soon, with any luck._

"_In any case," Colette paused and exhaled slowly. "I really am sorry. Your sample has turned out to be an invaluable tool, Ms. Wong."_

"_What are you talking about?" Ada asked, unable to completely hide her curiosity._

"_I know you thought you were being so terribly clever, sending me that vial of Nivans' blood. Thinking you'd _technically_ fulfilled your contract with me while avoiding actually giving me anything worthwhile."_

_It was true; that was exactly what Ada had done. She hadn't had much of a choice in the matter, though. But Colette didn't need to know that. Let her think that had been the plan all along. It might as well have been. _

_Just what was the woman rambling on about now...?_

"_Aren't you even the least bit curious how _she_ came to be?" Colette asked suddenly._

_She? Who, Carla? Ada couldn't help but wonder. However, all she said in reply to Colette was, "What? What are you going on about? I haven't got time for this."_

"_Of course, of course. So sorry to pull you away from your newfound domestic bliss—"_

_So Colette had someone keeping tabs on her. And Piers. It wasn't that surprising. It was true; Ada had become a bit complacent. _

"_I won't keep you much longer, then," Colette said, coyly. "You know, she wasn't so different than either of us... I can't really blame her for her part in taking my brother away. Since she's given me a way to bring him back."_

"_Oh, and I suppose I have too, then?" Ada wondered. "Somehow I get the feeling I've still got some work to do before _I'm_ forgiven."_

"_You know, I always thought it was sort of pathetic, Derek's devotion to you. Look at what it led to. All he wanted was you, and so badly that he was willing to _create_ a new you for himself from another woman... And to think, all _she_ ever wanted was _him_."_

_Colette was definitely talking about Carla Radames, but she wasn't seriously implying the woman had cloned Derek? Ada let out the tiniest bit of laughter, and if Colette heard it on the other end of the line, she didn't react. _

_Carla's greatest work... Her own Derek Simmons... One who would be as devoted to and adoring of her as she once had been to him... _

_That very well could've been what was hatching out of that brown crystal-like cocoon in the quad tower._

_Thank God Ada'd blasted the hell out of it._

_Before she could dwell on her own thoughts any longer, Colette spoke up, "Give my regards to Nivans for me, would you? I've developed a certain fondness for him. Something about him reminds me of my brother. I think it's his _genes_."_

* * *

**A/N: I haven't got ALL of the files on my own playthrough but I believe I've read them all online... (Sadly, it's files from Chris's campaign that I'm missing. I have everyone else's.) But I still may have strayed into some wacky ass AU land with this one. I hope it still reads okay despite that, if I have. And I hope it's not weird to have made Derek and Piers genetically similar enough that The Family thinks they can hatch them a new Derek using Piers. I mean, it was canon that Carla Radames was genetically similar enough to become Ada 2.0. Am I the only one who saw a BLONDE WHITE LADY in that picture of her and Derek? LOLOL So yeah... **

**Yes, I've considered that Piers likely bears some immunity to the enhanced C-virus now, or that his body is at least bonded with it and the 'cloning' process uses the original C-virus. Colette seems pretty sure that's not going to be a problem...**


	11. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Resident Evil characters. There's gotta be something I can do about this. Can't I just rent some of them for a while?  
**

**Summary:** **Piers has been saved by Ada, but surely, it can't have been out of the goodness of her heart...? Seems she has a use for him, or maybe it's just her new employer that does... **

**A/N: Shit's gettin' real. Or something. Actually, I don't think so. This feels like filler. Whoops. Pretend I'm setting up for an awesome next chapter. (I am. Pretending, that is.)  
**

* * *

Sherry Birkin was small. Always had been, and from the looks of it, always would be. Light as a feather, too. Ada hadn't had to use much of her own strength—she'd had the grappling hook and momentum on her side in that moment on the water, back in China—but it was clear she was arm-in-arm with a pint-sized agent. Ahem, _former_ agent, and one whose skills weren't to be questioned. Ada could claim she helped those two out solely because they were young and needed it... Oh, and the _world_ needed Jake Muller and his magical blood... But was that it? Really?

No, there was no denying Sherry Birkin's worth. Especially now.

Why else would Ada be here, with her? Why else would _Ada_ have initiated contact with _her_?

It was late, and dark; no one else in sight. Secret meetings tended to go that way. Moonlight, whispers, narrowed eyes, and crossed arms.

Ada didn't need to say much more in her message to Sherry than Piers' name and she had little Miss Birkin, hook, line, and sinker. She wouldn't play her trump card unless absolutely forced to. She didn't anticipate it would come to that. Sherry must've had so many questions about Piers... It was unlikely they'd even broach the subject of Wesker Jr.

"So Leon was right," were the first words out of the petite agent's—ah-ah, _ex_-agent's—mouth.

"Was he now?" Ada cocked her head to the side, refusing to give anything up.

"About you," Sherry added. She wrinkled her nose and frowned slightly. "To a point."

_There was a little _sizzle _behind that one_, Ada mused. A little bit of anger.

She offered her next thought out loud. "It really is a shame we couldn't have gotten together sooner. We could've set things straight once and for all."

"My thoughts exactly," was Sherry's attempt at a stone-cold response.

Ada supposed the hostility was justified; Sherry was another victim of Carla's with no way of knowing who she'd actually been dealing with. She was probably convinced she was face to face with her captor right now.

"You said you had information on Piers Nivans." Sherry seemed ready to get on with things.

"Quite the understatement, in retrospect," Ada said, shrugging slightly.

"Good. Something else we're in agreement on. How did you even find out I was in China looking for him?" Sherry asked. She crossed her arms. "As far as anyone knows, _I_ have no connection to Piers Nivans."

A valid point. Verbally, at least. But it was an out-and-out lie and they both knew it. Sherry had been brought along with... Team Redfield in their failed attempt to rescue Piers from Ada's evil clutches (such misinformation, though leaving them in the dark was probably for the best). It was during that time she'd undoubtedly found out some of her blood was coursing through his veins now and... Hmm...

"Oh, you're... _connected_, alright," Ada said. She matched Sherry's gesture of a moment before and crossed her arms.

Ada could play the part of the standoffish woman, too. The one who knew more than she was letting on, who wanted to spill some of those secrets, but couldn't risk it, and was really just crossing her arms to try and hold it all in until the time was right.

"Is that why you came to _me_ with this? Why not Chris Redfield? Or Leon?"

"Your _connection_ to Piers... It's why you accepted my invitation, isn't it? I thought you could use the work," Ada said, simply.

"Is this some attempt to blackmail me into cooperating with you? I'm still an agent of the U.S. government. Putting me on leave was as much for my safety as anything. It's procedure, because I spent so much time under Simmons. Not that it's any of your business—I mean, you shouldn't even know about any of this."

"Little bit after the fact, wasn't it?" Ada asked, adding, just a second later, "The decision to bench you? Almost like there's a much larger game afoot—"

"If you're suggesting I knew something about what Simmons was up to, you're not the first. By a long shot. And I've already answered to anyone and everyone who actually had cause to ask me about it."

"I'm closer to knowing the truth than _anyone and everyone_ you've been dealing with, both by choice and otherwise," Ada told her. Or was she reminding Sherry? She wasn't entirely sure.

"Then tell me why I'm here."

* * *

"Did you take a look at this watch-list?" Helena asked, with a stack of papers in hand. She was half-leaning, half-sitting on the edge of Leon's desk.

They each had one, for what it was worth. Neither of them spent much time at their desks, though. Helena's was practically empty. It'd recently been relocated to its position just behind Leon's. They were partners now, after all.

Leon's desk seemed to be about as barren as Helena's, but it didn't stop him from agitatedly and needlessly digging through his drawers for something.

She and Leon had their orders. It was just a matter of making sure the higher-ups had dotted every "I", crossed every "T", and given them one last pep talk before sending them out to infiltrate Colette Simmons' 'most likely place of residence'.

"What watch-list?" Leon finally asked, as a box of 9mm ammo was slapped onto the desktop, followed a couple of seconds later by an open bag of M&Ms.

"Gonna take that as a 'no'." Helena reached for the candy and popped a couple in her mouth.

"That candy's been in my desk longer than you've been an agent," Leon nonchalantly remarked."Of course that's a no. Why?"

Helena spit the candy back into the bag and offered, "Uh, because it's directly related to our mission."

Leon shrugged, fazed by neither her words nor her actions. "How do you figure? We're not on babysitting detail. _We're_ going in after Colette Simmons. Someone else can worry about a few names on a list while we pursue the actual threat. The government wants to waste manpower spying on Derek Simmons' old secretary, fine by me."

"Even if one of those _names_ is Sherry Birkin?" Helena dared to ask.

Leon was on top of her in a second, and had snatched the papers from her hand just as quickly.

She smirked just a bit. The situation wasn't at all funny, but his reaction was. And, she had to admit that teasing him had a certain appeal, too. Not to mention owing him one for those petrified M&Ms she'd almost ingested. She also had a feeling things were about to get dark—real dark—so she was going to milk every opportunity she got for anything resembling a lighthearted moment.

How bad were things going if someone like Sherry Birkin was considered a threat?

Helena had a sneaking suspicion that she and Leon were gonna be working on the fringe again. She'd anticipated as much.

She hadn't anticipated Leon's next reaction, though. Instead of flipping his lid, or doing that creepy _silent fury _thing he sometimes did, he... gave up. He said simply, "It's my fault."

"What?" Helena couldn't mask her surprise. "None of this is your fault. It's not even all Colette Simmons' fault, much as she'd probably like to take credit for it. These are things that were put into motion long before any of us."

"Yeah. But Sherry... What happened to _her_ is my fault."

Yup... Leon was one of those 'fall on his own sword' kind of guys if Helena'd ever seen one.

She insisted, "We had to tell her what Simmons was up to."

"Not talkin' about Simmons," Leon muttered. He wouldn't look at Helena, just that paper, and undoubtedly, Sherry's name on it.

"How are you _not_ talking about Simmons? That's the only reason she's on this stupid list. She reported to him. _Everyone_ who reported to him is under the microscope right now. _We_ just happen to know that there's no way Sherry has anything to do with any of this, and that there's no reason anyone needs to be keeping an eye on what she's doing."

That wasn't entirely true, Leon thought, if their last little _mission_ together was any indication... Hell, his name should be right there with hers, if that was the case. His, hers, Chris's, Jake's...

"I'm the one who turned her over to the government," Leon finally said. He tossed the papers to the desk in front of him. _Let them fall to the desk in front of him_ was more like it.

"_What_?" Helena managed to ask. It was a justifiably betrayed sounding question—no, _demand_. "_When_?"

Leon explained, "After Raccoon City."

"You can't blame yourself for something that long ago. You can't _really_ think it's related to this...?" Helena tried to protest.

"I _know_ it is. Because Simmons is the one who hid her for all those years. She's not on that list because she worked under him as an agent for a couple of years. She was in the custody of the government from 1998 to 2009, and he was her benefactor the entire time. On paper, no one outside of his family was closer to him than Sherry."

"You don't believe that."

"Doesn't matter what I believe."

"She turned on him the second she saw he was dirty."

Leon nodded. "And we're the only ones who saw that."

Well, they weren't the _only_ ones... Jake Muller was there, and Simmons' lackeys... But Leon's point was well made.

Helena sighed. "Damnit."

"Yup."

"Then we get her cleared to come with us," Helena suggested, excitement and eagerness in her voice and eyes.

"That is never, _ever_ going to work," Leon insisted. He did manage the slightest chuckle, though.

"You said it yourself: on paper, no one outside of the Simmons family was closer to Derek. She also has _extensive_ knowledge of recent events." Helena paused, cleared her throat, and decided to try her sales pitch out on Leon. "It's for that reason that we believe she'd be an invaluable asset and that we can't complete the mission without her."

"You think we're gonna convince the new Chief Security Advisor of that?"

"We don't have to. Just Hunnigan."

* * *

A beer bottle was placed on Chris's sort of cleaned up coffee table in front of Piers, followed by the instructions, "Start talkin'."

Piers reached for the bottle, turned it around and looked over the label, but didn't lift it from the table. "You think my blood alcohol content's gonna have an effect on what I say?"

"I didn't until now." Chris sat down. He had a beer as well. "I guess I'm not that devious. Didn't think you were either."

Piers shrugged.

Devious, _or_ flippant, the smug little shit.

Chris raised his bottle and motioned that he intended for Piers to do the same. Piers did.

"To—" Chris began to toast and stopped, seemingly, when it dawned on him he had nothing _to_ toast. 'Here's to you not being dead, even though _I_ didn't do shit to save you' just wasn't something he could bring himself to say in that moment. He settled for, "Fuck, I don't know."

Piers gave him a stern glance—stern, but not angry. "To the truth." He paused. "_Whatever it may be_."

Chris nodded, understanding his partner's meaning and somberly agreed, "Alright, I'll drink to that. Let's hear it already then."

Their bottles clinked, once, and they were done.

Piers put down the beer bottle and reached for something in his pocket—a phone. He popped the memory card slot open and checked that his SD card was in place then proceeded to access whatever he intended to show Chris. That so-called proof of Ada Wong's innocence he'd come upon, most likely.

_This oughtta be good._ Chris stifled a snort over the thought. Or at least not as _bad_ as the last time Piers had shown up out of the blue, shoved a smart phone in his face, and made him take a long, hard look at something.

"You really need a computer," Piers muttered, offering up the phone.

Chris squinted then complained, "What is this? What the fuck am I supposed to be looking at?"

"My point exactly." Piers shook his head. "Detail's not what it would be on a larger screen, like a _computer monitor_... But you should still be able to see her clearly."

"Her?" It wasn't much of a question, and Chris already knew the answer to it anyway. He played the video.

It was _her_ alright. And she just hatched out of one of those fucking cocoons.

"What the hell was that?"

"Neo-Umbrella leader Ada Wong, of course," was Piers's reply.

"Bullshit."

"Exactly."

"This doesn't prove she's innocent, Piers. You better have a hell of a lot more than... whatever the fuck that was."

Piers was quick to insist, "I do."

"Good."

Piers took his phone back and accessed his next piece of... evidence then offered the phone to Chris once more. "Might have to put your reading glasses on for this one."

Chris grumbled a little but didn't say any actual words. Instead, he read. An old file—had to have been highly classified at one point. Probably still _was_, which begged the question: how the hell did Piers get his hands on it?

When Piers figured Chris had read enough, he chimed in, "Your agent friend was right: Derek Simmons was really behind it. Behind this, at least. I doubt that's all, though. If he was _hatching_ his own people, I don't think there's much he wasn't willing to do."

Chris attempted to protest, "Just because she was _created_ to be... whatever she actually is... That doesn't make her innocent, Piers."

Unfazed, Piers simply said, "The next one goes into a little more detail on the process."

After a moment, Chris murmured, "...A clone."

"Bingo."

"...Made from a full-grown human being, who's _forced_ into becoming another person—" Chris seemed to be catching on.

"That's right. The Ada Wong _we_ were pursuing was actually a woman named Carla Radames. She's the one who developed, discovered, created the C-virus—whatever you want to call it."

"Okay, fine. So, there's _two_ Ada Wongs. Maybe the _good twin_ wasn't out there trying to infect... hell, _all of us_, turn us into inhuman monsters—" Chris stopped himself suddenly.

Piers simply said, "Go on." If he was offended, it didn't show.

"But she was on their radar. Something put the idea into their heads to clone her, didn't it?"

"I didn't have the chance to ask." Piers reached for his phone. "She took off almost as soon as she realized I knew she was innocent."

"Doesn't exactly sound like something an _innocent_ person would do," Chris muttered.

"She had a plan and this isn't it," Piers insisted.

"Yeah? Then what was it?"

"If I had to guess," Piers began. He smirked just a bit, and continued, "And I _do._ She was trying to play everyone against each other and slip away unnoticed while they fought it out."

Chris echoed, "Everyone?"

"The BSAA and whoever she was hired by to come after me."

"_Come after you_?" Chris repeated, his eyes narrowing as he spoke.

Piers shrugged it off. "I'm sure she—_they_—just wanted the sample. They had no way of knowing what had happened. They probably thought I still just had the vial. She could've just killed me as soon as she saw me, or left me behind."

Chris didn't say anything but he was thinking it.

"I think she thought you'd bring the cavalry with you, after hearing from her." Piers smiled, but his expression quickly turned serious. "I told her you wouldn't bite."

Chris tried to play it off, but he couldn't completely hide the wound caused by Piers's words—hearing that Piers was, apparently, of the mindset that Chris hadn't come for him, and had no intentions of doing so. "Well, it wasn't exactly the cavalry..."

Piers got an odd look on his face, somewhere between confused and amused. It was the first he'd heard, seen—anything—that Chris had been looking for him.

Chris very calmly explained, "We were too late. You were already gone by the time we got there. The mission failed. No... _I_ did."

"Captain, that's not what I meant at all." There was a pleading tone in Piers's voice. First time he'd dropped a 'captain' in a while, too. And he was usually good for a _lot_ of them.

"You sure you're okay to fight?" Chris asked, suddenly.

"Of course." Piers seemed certain of himself.

Without access to the equipment or personnel to examine him—not without hauling his ass to HQ and exposing them both to a world of trouble, at least—Piers's word was all Chris had to go on. In the past, that would've been more than enough.

Still, with equal certainty, Chris said, "Good."

Piers cocked his head to the side but asked no questions.

Chris offered his explanation anyway. "We're going after her, and we're gonna find her. And we'll do it your way."

"Why?"

"What do you mean, 'why'? Isn't this what you wanted?"

"I don't want you agreeing out of pity."

"Pity for who?" Chris asked, with a bark of laughter. After a moment, he continued, "She hasn't failed you yet. That's a hell of lot more than I can say for myself. So, let's go find Ada Wong."

* * *

**A/N: Has it really been almost a month since I updated? Crap. XD Sorry it took me so long to get back into the swing of things. And that Jake didn't make it into this chapter. I love him. :) He'll be around soon enough. I mean, he's not gonna be happy to hear about what's going on with Sherry, especially if she totally goes off the radar and tries to take care of things alone because of whatever she hears from Ada...**


	12. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: They aren't mine. None of the Resident Evil characters. It hurts me in my heart. And my pants. I needs me some Piers in my pants. Or Jake. OR BOTH.**

**Summary: Oh hell, everyone knows what's going on by now, right? (I don't entirely. Sort of just wingin' it, if I'm being completely honest. XD) Sorry this chapter is such garbage. I've rewritten it several times and I really just don't think it's gettin' any better than this. Blech. Didn't realize it'd be such a slow build to the good stuff.  
**

**Still, feedback is love. It really means a lot to read your reviews. This story has nearly 5000 hits to its 43 reviews. XD Little disheartening, yo. Also, MeowFace20, you are lovely and wonderful for your off-site rec and you make such pretty art. See Ch. 1 for the link to the PiersxAda tumblr page if you're interested. Or just google 'fyeah piers ada'.**

* * *

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Jake asked, head cocked to the side and smirking slightly.

It was obvious Sherry was packing. For a mission.

"Nowhere," was the response. Sherry wouldn't turn to face Jake. She needlessly looked over her Triple Shot.

"...Without me?" Jake asked, as if it were just an extension of his previous question. _Where the hell do you think you're going without me?_

"...That you need to worry about." _Nowhere that you need to worry about._ Two could play that game.

Jake nodded. He was mulling things over. His smirk was gone. He tossed something down on Sherry's bed. "Then you probably want that back. Probably don't want me in your business anymore if you think you need to lie to me."

Sherry glanced over. It was the spare key to her apartment. She had given it to Jake almost as soon as they were stateside. He was being put up in a studio apartment close to the lab. A lot of the government's medical personnel stayed there. It was a glorified hotel room and he'd only be allowed to stay there until the researchers were absolutely certain they didn't need to run more tests on him.

But... if Jake had any interest in hanging around after that, well, Sherry just wanted him to know he would always have a place with her...

Except wherever it was she was going right now.

As if sensing what he was thinking, Sherry attempted to protest, "It's not like that, Jake. I have to go. Alone." She paused. She was this close to reminding him she'd been assigned to escort _him_ back to the U.S. alone. Instead, she continued with, "It could be dangerous and I don't want to get you involved."

The look Jake gave Sherry matched his words completely. "Are you kiddin' me with that shit?"

That was a far cry from last time, from _every _time. What the hell was Sherry into that she thought it was too dangerous? Too dangerous for _him_? Really? Hell, for _them_. Like the hell they'd already been through together had been a walk in the park or something?

"You're too important. To the world, to—"

Jake cut her off with a laugh. He obviously wasn't amused, though. "I don't think so. Your government docs have already made a fucking pincushion outta me for their vaccine. They don't need me anymore. It's done."

"And what if it isn't?"

"What the hell are you talking about? Where are you really going? You back on the job or you running off with Redfield again? He get another so-called lead on his back-from-the-dead partner?"

"_No_." Sherry closed her eyes and took a moment to compose herself. "_I_ got a real one on him."

Jake seemed genuinely surprised. "You're shittin' me. From who? You tell him yet?"

Why was someone going to S_herry_ with information on Redfield's partner and not the man himself?

"No, and I can't tell Chris. It's too... sensitive. There's too much at stake. It's not like anything we've faced before. So, please, just trust me, and stay here. Stay here, and stay safe, because we may still need you."

"...Need me how?" Jake deadpanned; it really wasn't his style. He was flash, and fists, and angry demands. To see and hear him devoid of emotion was a little unsettling.

Sherry wouldn't indulge him, though. "I've already told you too much."

"Need me like you needed me when you found me in Edonia?" Jake guessed. He'd figured it out.

"Just let it go, Jake."

"Not a chance, Supergirl. You take off without me, I'll just follow you. And you ain't gonna be able to lose me as easy as the douchebags that're supposed to be keeping an eye on you."

"If something were to happen to you, I wouldn't be able to live with it," Sherry insisted.

"You plannin' on gettin' me killed?" Jake feigned offense.

Sherry couldn't help but smile a bit. "Of course not. But it's a distinct possibility. I have no idea what we'll be walking into. I just know... I just know that I can't leave it undone. I can't let her get away with it. She _can't_ get her hands on Piers."

"Okay, hold up—" Jake allowed himself a moment. "_Who _can't you let get their hands on—did you just say 'we'? And he's for sure okay?"

"_No_." Sherry outright lied in response to Jake first question. "And yes, Ada confirmed it. He's okay. I think she's genuinely trying to do right by him."

So that _Ada_ woman was Sherry's contact? That 'real lead' she'd gotten on Piers had come from _her_? It really didn't make any sense why she'd reach out to Sherry. She had no problem dangling a carrot in front of Redfield before, when she had the goods on his old partner. Why not go to him again?

For all the questions Jake had, he only asked, "She's seriously trying to protect him? The same broad that captured us and kept us prisoner for six months, protecting someone?"

She had a pretty extensive slideshow that proved she'd saved his life, it was true. Didn't seem like her game, though. The whole thing just didn't sit right with Jake. He never had gotten an answer out of Chris about how it all happened—how Piers ended up infected in the first place. Infected and then... _not_ infected. If Ada Wong infected him, she wouldn't have cured him. It was one or the other.

"No," Sherry spoke up. "It wasn't the same woman that captured us."

"What?"

She sighed. "...I'll explain it on the way."

* * *

_Sherry said only, "My blood."_

_Ada let out an absent-minded sounding little, "Hmm?"_

"_You still haven't told me why you gave Piers Nivans my blood."_

"_As I recall, he was dangerously close to _death_." It was technically the truth.  
_

"_You really expect me to believe that was the only reason?"_

"_He needed blood, yours was in the facility. It was compatible, and separate from the other subjects' samples, no less. I figured it couldn't hurt, with your regenerative capabilities and all," Ada explained. _

"_I knew it," Sherry said, with a sort of crestfallen tone present in her voice. It wasn't bad news, per se, but still, it couldn't exactly be counted as good, either. _

_Without prodding, Ada added, "At his stage of infection, administering the vaccine would've likely been fatal. You should know that much."_

"_And you thought _my_ blood would prevent that? That's ridiculous. There's a reason the government never found anything useful in all their years of testing me. If what you're saying is true, it's a miracle he survived."_

"_The virus was concentrated around his arm. It was rather slow to spread beyond there. Once that arm was taken care of—" Ada waved off her own unfinished remark._

"Taken care of?" _Sherry echoed, far less willing to just dismiss that sort of statement, though she could guess what Ada was getting at. She'd seen the pictures._ _"What did you do to him?"_

"_Although, it certainly didn't help he'd been infected with the more advanced version of the virus. Or perhaps it did... Either way, it was the version developed during _your_ time there with Wesker Jr., I do believe." Teasing tone or not, Ada was telling the truth, although she was still talking about it all like an outsider. _

_Nonetheless, what she said had its merits; the researchers—_Ada's_ researchers, right?—had used Jake's antibodies to make the C-virus stronger. The data Sherry had taken from the facility herself was proof of that. She still couldn't help but wonder, though... What if the current vaccine wasn't effective against this new virus? Everything they'd all fought for would've been for nothing._

"_I know what you're thinking," Ada said, suddenly._

_Unable to dismiss that self-satisfied tone in Ada's voice, Sherry asked, "Do you, now?"_

"_That the vaccine the UN doctors have been toiling away at isn't going to be good enough? Piers Nivans is proof that the new strain of the virus can be subdued."  
_

_Sherry had to admit Ada was right; that was exactly what she had been thinking. But what exactly did she mean by _subdued_? Ada would've said she'd _cured_ Piers if she had.  
_

_Unconcerned, Ada continued, "Unless my sources fail me, only three samples ever made it out of the lab. The last of the original samples is the one in his body."_

"_So what happened to them? _The other two samples_?"_

"_Dead." Ada smirked. It was a bit unnerving._

_Well, that smirk answered Sherry's next question before she could even ask it. _How could Ada be sure those other two samples had been destroyed?_ Seemed she'd taken care of it herself. She'd taken care of _them_ herself._

"_Simmons," Ada finally remarked, and after another long pause, added, "And the other _really_ isn't important. A researcher who _never_ should've involved herself with him. I assure you she's dead."_

"_So if the last surviving sample really was in Piers' body... Then what is this all for?"_

_Ada resisted the urge to correct Sherry's '_was_' to '_is_' and said, simply, _"_A sample of his blood was taken and provided to another party per the terms of a previously negotiated contract."_

"_Why would you do something like that?" Sherry demanded. There wasn't the slightest bit of hesitation when it came to accusing Ada._

_Ada feigned offense. "I never said I was the one who did that."_

_Sherry rolled her eyes. "You didn't have to. Who is this 'other party' and what are they planning on doing?"_

_Sherry could guess: he or she was planning to manufacture more of the enhanced virus using the sample Ada had provided them. Why then, if Ada had really given them the means to do this, was she suddenly so determined to stop them?_

"_Her name is Colette Simmons, and she's planning to resurrect her brother, _Derek_ Simmons."_

"_There's no way she can do that," Sherry said, with every intention of sounding firm and confident, but she wavered a bit._

_Wasn't like she'd never seen the dead come back to life before. But she knew from Leon's report what he faced when he took down Derek Simmons. Although, it would appear he had some help with the task, in the form of Ada Wong. Of course he couldn't document _that_ particular detail. Still, there was no way _he_ was ever coming back._

"_She _can_ if she gets her hands on Piers Nivans."_

* * *

Piers hadn't lost his touch. During his time _away_, it seemed he'd gained a few skills, too. He'd become quite the hacker. Nah... Piers had always been good at gathering intel; he'd found Chris when no one else could. God knows everyone was looking, too. Maybe Piers had just been honing his skills under Ada's tutelage.

Whatever it was, he'd worked quickly, and accurately.

Piers had insisted he'd find out everything they needed to know—that which he didn't already—about where they were going, leaving weapons, equipment, and transportation to Chris. Ada hadn't left him with much, it would seem.

Just the shirt on his back and the belief that she was an innocent woman.

Wasn't long before Piers had a name and a location. Another _Simmons_—not surprising—and a private island off the coast of Maine. Chris didn't like that they were still in the U.S. Not that impending _international_ disasters were any better. It just felt... different when it was on American soil. Too close to home. Oh yeah, it was also an _island_. The property was home to two longstanding residences, presumably, one for family members, one for the help or maybe guests. There was a small pier for times when one opted to arrive by boat, and a helipad had been added more recently. That was how it looked on paper, at least.

Yeah, that was pretty much how the Spencer estate looked on paper, too.

The land and all its secrets had been passed on to Derek Simmons' sister. She'd recently relocated to the estate to recover from the stress of being under the government's watchful eye. Or so the classified files Piers had gotten hold of said. Whoever had written that report wasn't buying her story anymore than Chris did when he had the chance to look at it.

The aerial photos Piers had come across didn't do the place justice. Even at night, even in the fog, and with little more than moonlight for a guide, it was clear whoever built it thought themselves royalty. Probably the type who'd killed their way to the _throne_.

The main house was to the north, the presumed guest house to the south. It would take longer to search together but...

"Should we split up?" Piers asked, suddenly.

"No."

It was bad enough they were doing it just the two of them, with no backup. As far as the BSAA or anyone else knew, Chris was on leave, and Piers was dead. Wasn't likely they were gonna run into any friendlies on-site, either. Their best bet was Ada and Chris sure didn't consider her an ally. The only reason he'd agreed to this, or so he was still trying to convince himself, was that he knew Piers'd would've gone in alone if he didn't. Seemed he had the right idea.

"We'll cover twice as much ground if we split up and if she's really using it as a safe house—"

"Not a chance, Piers," was the refusal.

"...It's gotta be safe enough for her to live in," Piers needlessly finished his sentence.

"That's shit reasoning and you know it. You've never been that reckless."

Anxious maybe, but never so damn determined to walk into a trap. For what? Ada Wong? Even if she wasn't guilty of all the things everyone—including Piers—once thought she was, well, it was gonna take a hell of a lot more to convince Chris she was _innocent_.

"Learned from the master," Piers said, simply, without apology, and unless Chris was mistaken, _amusedly_, too. He quickly turned serious, and began to explain, "Ada was working for someone to collect a sample of the new virus."

They moved up, having made the decision to head north and infiltrate the main house first. They were closing in.

Piers, from his position a few steps ahead of Chris, continued, "The one we _thought_ we'd taken off of her body, on the aircraft carrier. The one I—"

"I know which one you're talking about."

The one Piers had infected himself with. It _really_ didn't need to be said.

"When she found me I was... Well, she obviously had to come up with a Plan B. I guess she could've just killed me and moved on."

"I know all of this. We already went over this," Chris reminded him.

"She didn't just cure me. They got their sample." Piers stood still, as if sensing Chris was no longer moving, either.

Okay, they hadn't gone over _that_. Chris had figured that was the reason behind it all; Ada was keeping Piers as her little pet or whatever she considered it, until the time was right to cash in. If she was truly _protecting_ him, it was just because she needed him alive to keep _herself_ alive. Hostages were no good if they were dead, after all. Whatever he'd become was of great value to _her_, and whoever _hired_ her.

So, why was someone still after Piers if Ada'd already given up a sample? What were these people _really_ after? Why _did_ she just walk away from him...?

Piers was right; Chris _had_ stopped. He didn't turn to face Chris, though. He waited a moment for Chris to speak up—say _anything_—but when silence prevailed, gave a little nod and began walking again. Chris followed.

It was quiet aside from the crunch of the earth and dried pine needles beneath his thick booth soles until Piers finally piped up, "You can guess why we're here, right? This is who she sent the sample to."

"And this is who she's trying to protect you from now?" It was hard for Chris to sincerely ask the question. It was what Piers believed, so he willed himself to at least consider the possibility.

"Yeah. I just can't figure out why."

_You and me both._ Chris was thinking it, but didn't say anything. He had a _real_ hard time imagining Ada Wong had suddenly realized she felt terrible about selling Piers out and exposing him to all this danger in the first place, and had decided to sneak off to make amends, trusting _he'd_ leave well enough alone.

"I'm just one guy, and they already got their sample. It's gotta be something else that they're after. Something much bigger. And _Ada_ knows what it is."

They'd reached the main gate by then but Piers hadn't made any attempt to move forward, or said anything more. He was just standing in front of the keypad, head cocked to the side.

After a moment of silence, Chris let out a gruff, "What's the hold up, Piers?"

"The gate's already unlocked. Whoever did it managed to override the system without setting off any alarms."

Chris figured that could only mean one thing: _she_ was really there, and she was already inside. _Someone_ was, at least.

* * *

**A/N: For the part where Sherry muses that she was sent in to get Jake alone, I say that because I don't think she realized Fake Ada had been given orders to make sure they made it back okay. Which she obviously didn't. LOLOL. Oh, Fake Ada, you crazy. **

**Oh, and the location will be described in more detail by someone more likely to muse on that. You know, one of the chicks. Or Leon. XD**

**So, Chris is on leave now... And he was clearly still on the job earlier on in the story. Well, he obviously couldn't risk being given official orders that'd conflict with all the stuff he's doing under the BSAA's nose right now. XD**


	13. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: Don't own me any Resident Evil characters. I'm running out of awesome shit to say when I complain about this.**

**Summary, notes, etc.: Dude, I don't even know anymore. But for the amount of time I've spent googling Victorian architecture and furniture, you'd think I'd have done a much better job describing Chez Simmons. Leon's gonna be so disappointed with his inner monologue. Kidding. I love you too, Leon. XD**

**Look at me, updating twice in so many days. I'm being productive.**

**Italics represent past and/or flashback scenes. I only waited 13 chapters to tell you all that.**

* * *

_The main gates were tall and imposing. At a glance, at least. It was something that in days past would've likely been chained and secured with a massive lock that a servant or guard would have to open once one was deemed worthy of entering. There'd been a _few_ advances in technology since then. The gates had been put on rollers and an electronic keypad had been installed. No locks or chains or _guards_ in sight._

_Didn't mean they weren't there._

_The gate's security system, improved since the last century or not, wasn't particularly hard for Ada to override and she was in. She could approach the entrance now, anyway._

_Ada glanced up at the mansion before her—Victorian style architecture, for the most part. Whoever commissioned it was compensating for something. It wasn't surprising to know that _overcompensation _was a Simmons family trait that dated back many generations. Still, there was no denying the estate's beauty, even if _creepy_ seemed to have been mixed into the very mortar that held it together. The fog that had greeted her as soon as she arrived seemed to have a life of its own, inhaling and exhaling just as she did. _

_Thick vines crawled up the outer walls, twisted and wound around _barred_ windows, reaching well past the mansion's second story in some places. The bars were obviously a later addition. It looked like there had been a half-hearted attempt to clear the ivy away relatively recently, but only around the main entrance. It had even begun to spread along the ground, covering it in a sea of rich, green hearts._

_From the looks of it, no one had been home in decades. Then again, giving off that impression may have been the point._

_Ada approached the front door; she'd done enough sightseeing. Another keypad and just as easy a code to crack. Still, no guards in sight. It wasn't that surprising, really. Colette was expecting her, after all._

_She stepped inside, half-wondering if the woman wouldn't be right there waiting for her. Only emptiness greeted her. Emptiness, yet, somehow, at the same time, _excess_._

_From the staircase to that ridiculous chandelier, the mansion certainly wasn't as neglected looking inside as the outside would lead one to believe. It was anyone's guess where Colette was at the moment. She laid claim on things that would _never_ be hers, spread her influence just about everywhere she could. The woman _oozed_ entitlement. No telling what awaited Ada now that she _truly_ was on her turf._

_She contemplated which way to proceed. She had several options. A door to each side on the first floor, and one at the top of the stairs, leading to the second floor, east wing, it would appear. She supposed it didn't really matter which direction she went; all paths would ultimately lead to Colette. That was the purpose of it all, wasn't it?_

_Some sooner than others, no doubt._

_Now _that_ was the purpose of it all..._

_This wasn't the first _Family_ picnic Ada had invited herself to, after all. She had some idea of how they did things, and how they lived. The place fit the mold so far. Even the mansions they genuinely lived in had their fair share of secret passages, trick floorboards, staircases to nowhere, and third floor doors that opened up to nothing except the ground _three stories below_._

_Ada didn't know how long it'd taken Derek's researchers to transform Carla Radames into her double but it sure hadn't happened overnight. Colette's team of mad scientists were going to need some time for _her_ pet project, not to mention the guest of honor. Colette couldn't do a thing without Piers. She, of course, was convinced that getting her hands on him would be childsplay. At least, that was the bluff she was clinging to. _

_Unless it wasn't a bluff... Well, that was the whole reason Ada had come. She had to know for sure._

_Still, the procedure was going to take time. The research, the testing, the process—everything—there can't have been that many advances, right? Colette had obviously jumped the gun. But why? She was antsy but she wasn't stupid..._

_Why hadn't Ada paid more attention to the _start date_ on that project in the quad tower...? She just destroyed the console, along with whatever information was contained within it, and that _thing_... How long had it been there? When was it _really_ set to hatch? Did it begin to hatch because it somehow recognized _Ada_? If that thing truly was to Derek what Carla had been to _her_, it may have._

_Ada headed for the stairs. Cream rises to the top, right? Colette thought pretty highly of herself. It was a reasonable assumption to put her living space _upstairs_. It'd be even better if she had a laptop or something in her quarters, too. _

_It didn't take Ada long to find it, the master bedroom. She could tell at a glance if there was anything of use in any given room, so she was quick to move down the hallways until she reached her destination. _

_It was Colette's room alright. King-size bed with canopy, covered in a mix of ivory and champagne colored linens and pillows, antique vanity, make-up and perfume bottles already scattered across its top. The armoire was likely vintage, too, its dark wood carved and polished to perfection. Ada could imagine the designer label clothing hung and folded within. Unless it was still empty inside and just sitting there for show._

_That was much more likely._

_There it was, sitting on the sofa—a chaise longue—its position given away by the cord stretching across the floor to the nearest outlet: a laptop. Plugged in and getting power but not on. _

_Colette was charging up._

_Ada opened the laptop and hit the power button._

"_I said _I'd_ come for you, Ms. Wong. How you managed to misunderstand the meaning of that message is beyond me."_

_Ada turned around in perfect time with the 'welcome' ding of Colette's laptop to face the woman herself, and the three stout guards accompanying her. _

_Red hair, full lips, narrowed golden brown eyes, and dressed in a pencil skirt and tight white blouse, it was the first Ada had seen of Colette Simmons in quite a while. Her guards looked human, wearing dress shirts and slacks, but no jackets and no sunglasses. _

_Ada pondered the numbers for a moment. "Three guards for little old me, Colette? I'm quite flattered." In reality, it was insulting, but Colette didn't know her the way Derek had, and even he never really _knew_ her._

_The math was simple: one guard to stay with Colette, and the other two to haul Ada away... wherever. Or her _body_, if Colette really thought she could rid herself of Ada so easily._

"_I'd give you the tour but we really should wait until everyone is here." Colette nodded and one of the guards stepped up._

_Everyone...?_

"_I really didn't expect to have so much company, and so soon." Colette exaggerated a sigh. "I mean, I _knew_ I'd be having guests, just not so many."_

_The guard Colette had summoned forward, a stocky, smirking man, gripping his pistol with meaty fingers, made to disarm Ada. How humiliating to let herself be taken captive so easily. But Ada knew she couldn't risk a fight at this point. There was too much at stake and she had no idea how many more suited apes Colette had on her payroll. They'd all come running if they heard a commotion._

_The only reason it'd been so easy for Ada to get this far unnoticed was be design—_Colette's_ design._

_So she'd have to play the woman's game a little bit longer._

_Ada raised her arms and allowed the guard to frisk her. He made no attempt to conceal that he was fondling her in front of his boss. Naturally, he had to make sure she didn't have a second crossbow hidden in her cleavage. Or a third and fourth tucked against the inside of each thigh._

_With a flick of the wrist Colette instructed her men, "Follow me. I'll show you where I want her kept."_

* * *

Sherry hadn't been cleared to go on the mission with Leon and Helena. It was a long shot, so neither could claim to be surprised. The reason why they'd been refused, however, wasn't what they were expecting to hear. Okay, the main reason why. There were several, all rattled off in quick succession by Hunnigan, but the only one that really stuck was 'she's missing'.

It was being kept rather quiet, for having just—_just_—happened, and for not wanting to create unnecessary panic (_and because Sherry's _not_ an actual threat_, Leon thought, but kept it to himself). It was being 'handled' by the team who had been assigned to keep an eye on her and Leon and Helena didn't need to worry about it.

Really? They needed an entire team for that? Apparently, they did, _and then some_, because that so-called team hadn't even been able to keep her under surveillance. Depending on the circumstances of her being missing, they hadn't been able to do shit about that, either. Leon hoped she'd just slipped out of sight but couldn't keep from wondering if she'd been abducted.

But, as Hunnigan took to reminding Leon and Helena, they had their own problems.

She didn't know the half of it.

"Which way?" Helena piped up, nodding upward.

A fork in the road. Two buildings, one to the north and one to the south. The building to the north was larger, more obvious.

When Leon didn't respond right away, Helena half-heartedly suggested, "We could always kill two birds with one stone." It was more to get his attention than anything. She didn't really want to split up. If there was any chance Derek Simmons was somehow still alive, and in hiding in this place—_either_ place—she had no intention of going in alone. His sister was the target tonight but she'd made some _heavy_ statements as of late.

"There may come a time when we're forced to split up. This isn't it," Leon insisted, unable to shake the uneasy feeling that had plagued him since they arrived on the island.

Helena nodded her understanding; she was glad they were in agreement. "How about the smaller building then? I say we start there. Less flashy, we'll get through it quicker, and I don't know about you, but I'm _dying_ to know what's inside."

Leon scoffed, "You're probably not the only one."

Helena took point, moving forward quickly, and confidently. If she was feeling as apprehensive as Leon, it sure didn't show. She paused when he reached the entrance before slowly and carefully reaching for the door. Unlocked. She glanced back and shook her head, the look on her face making it clear she thought something was off about that, but didn't say anything. For crying out loud, the last Simmons family... _anything_ they'd been to, they were sticking rings into the doors just to unlock them. And that was _after_ using strategically placed statuettes of the Madonna to even reveal the passage that led to the Simmons' hidden complex.

Helena pushed the door open and stepped inside slowly, Picador at the ready as she inched forward, until she determined it was safe to signal for Leon to move up and join her.

The decor was lavish, and it still looked like the classy place it might actually have been at one time. It looked like they were in someone's living room, from the old fashioned sofa and chairs, to the black and white, oval-framed portraits covering nearly every inch of the wall, and the yellowed, peeling floral wallpaper.

"Intel says _this_ place was actually built first, before what's now the main house. I'm not sure what it's being used for now," Helena commented. "If anything."

"Oh, it's being used for something," Leon muttered. He glanced around.

Hallway behind them, probably led to bedrooms, at least one bathroom, a closet, maybe. There was a staircase to his right, hugging the wall, leading the way to the second floor. By the number of windows he saw before coming inside, there were at least four separate rooms up there—could've been more. There was a single door to the left that Leon figured led to the dining room. If he was right, the kitchen would be beyond there, maybe even in the basement.

Wasn't shaping up to be a really big place, luckily, but that didn't mean they could get sloppy; leave no stone unturned. The sooner they finished their sweep of this place, the sooner they could move onto the main house.

The upstairs was clean. Fresh linens had been laid out on all the beds, as if the place was actually being lived in. The kitchen turned out to be the same; the pantry was stocked, and not with rusty old food tins from the 1800s, either.

A door creaked open; the door at the far end of the dining room, opposite to where Leon and Helena had entered. "Now, what do you suppose is down there?" Leon mused.

That was more like it; Leon couldn't help but think it, as he looked down at the stairs he'd just revealed. Worn, crumbling concrete steps that, in days past, probably led to nothing more than a simple cellar, beckoned him.

He was down the stairs first with Helena right behind him. Well, Helena wasn't _right_ behind him, or she'd have been crushed when the bars came down. Iron, about jail-cell width apart, effectively leaving Leon on one side and Helena on the other.

They must've been triggered to drop when someone crossed a certain point and Leon obviously had. He was the first one off the stairs; he was _the only one_ off the stairs. So that must've been it. The gate dropped right at the bottom of the steps.

"Guess we're splittin' up now," Leon muttered.

"Just hang tight. There's gotta be a way to raise these bars," Helena insisted. She was looking around, but she had to admit, all she was seeing was a whole lotta nothin'. There were no switches or levers or _blow torches_ in sight—nothing obvious, at least—for raising or _getting through_ those damn bars. She'd likely have to backtrack to the main floor.

"Hang on, Helena," Leon called out for her. He didn't tell her to stop—to quit searching—but that was what he meant.

She knew it, too. "What is it?"

Leon seemed to be looking around as best he could. "Looks like it goes pretty far back."

"What are you saying?" Helena leaned forward and did her best to peer down the hallway through the bars separating her from Leon.

"Looks like it's bigger down here than it is up there."

Sounded about right. Helena needlessly reminded Leon, "You're the one who said you didn't want to split up."

"Yeah, I'm also the one who said we might be forced to. Didn't think it'd happen so soon, though." Leon nodded at something up ahead. "This could lead all the way to the main house."

"Possibly." Or somewhere _worse_.

* * *

"So this Colette woman can really do what she's threatening to do?" Jake asked, and not for the first time, either.

"She seems to think so," Sherry answered. "Ada does too."

They'd entered the main house through a side door and were currently making their way through the west side on the first floor. Searching the rooms, though it was fortunate they'd been able to do it uninterrupted—_odd_—had already become a rather tiresome task. Sitting room here, bathroom there, guest bedroom, guest bedroom, guest bedroom, and so on.

Why was it so quiet?

Surely, a woman of Colette Simmons' standing would have guards, and plenty of them. So where were they? If this place was truly where she was planning on reviving her brother, there was a lot more to it than the normal, _nothing_ rooms Sherry and Jake had been looking over.

Sherry thought back to Raccoon City. "The basement," she said, suddenly.

"Hmm?"

"We need to find our way to the basement."

Jake waved Sherry forward. "Lead on."

"She's gotta have equipment here, files—all kinds of things on the project and anything else she's planning. We'll gather up whatever we can. We're gonna need proof of what she's trying to do, since we're kinda... already here."

That was what Ada wanted her to do, right? Or was it? No wonder Leon hadn't figured anything out about her after all these years. Either way, Ada sure hadn't given Sherry any actual instructions on what she wanted her to do. Ada wasn't in any position to do so, for one, and it really didn't seem like her style. But she wanted Sherry to do _something_, Sherry was certain of that. She could only hope _this_—whatever _this_ was—was it or close to it.

It was quiet a moment, until Jake piped up, "So, how 'bout it? You believe it too?" He already knew the answer: Sherry believed it. Why else were they creeping around this place?

"I believe it, too. There's proof the procedure can be a success if the subject is a close enough genetic match to the person they're intending to _replicate_, and _he_ is."

"Yeah?" Jake needlessly called out. It was mostly for confirmation, rather, _re_confirmation. "How exactly'd this Simmons chick find that out, anyway?"

"Find what out?"

Jake stopped and forced Sherry to face him. "Come on."

Sherry sighed. "Ada sold him out. Obviously."

"And _Ada's_ the one _you_ got all your info from, right?"

"It doesn't matter. What's done is done. I can't say if she feels any remorse over what she did and is trying to make up for it now, or if she had _any_ idea things would end up like this. I just know I can't let this happen."

Jake gave Sherry a stern look but didn't say anything. He had a feeling she wasn't done talking. He was right.

"I let one Derek Simmons get away with murder on a mass scale." Sherry turned away, mostly for effect, though there was an unexplored room just behind her. She reached for the doorknob.

"That really what this is about?" Jake asked.

"Isn't it enough?" She turned the knob. Unlocked.

"Really has nothin' to do with the... however many pints of Supergirl that are pumpin' through his veins now?"

"Not a thing." Sherry responded so quickly that either she was telling the truth, or she at least believed the lie. "If the government couldn't find anything useful after 11 years of studying my blood, I doubt Ada could, in time for an emergency transfusion. The only thing that came of her giving him my blood was that she was able to use the information to bait _me_ later on."

"So that's how she got you?" Jake smirked a bit; he knew not to push it, though.

Sherry nodded. "She knew I'd come running."

She entered the room. Jake followed. Another sitting room but it seemed different... It was perfectly symmetrical. The furniture on the left side of the room was identical in style and placement to that on the right; the artwork and portraits and mirrors on the walls were exactly the same, too. Even the old princess phones, directly opposite one another, each sitting on their own little desk right below matching framed prints of some old painting were the same.

Sherry headed for the left side of the room and Jake for the right.

Jake glanced at the painting on his side; the edition number read 0/150. How could it be a _zero_ edition? He dismissed the thought and turned to Sherry. "So what do we do when we find this Colette?"

"You remember what I said?" Sherry paused. "About never giving up, no matter what?"

"...Yeah."

"Well... we can't let her get away with this, _no matter what_. You understand?"

"Hey, you can just come out and say you wanna kill her. I got no problem with that." Jake reached for the old phone on his side of the room. No dial tone but it wasn't dead, either...

"I don't want to kill her," Sherry insisted, stifling a groan. "But I won't let her get away with this."

Sherry looked down at the floor... Had this room _literally_ been split in half at some point? The ceiling was the same way, too. It was an old mansion; there had to have been remodeling done at some point. Still...

"You want _me_ to kill her?" Jake suddenly asked. He dialed _zero_.

"Jake!" Sherry looked over his way to see him with the old phone receiver to his ear—well, the one attached to the phone on 'his side' of the room—and resisted the urge to ask just what he thought he was doing.

"I won't even charge you." Jake dialed the next number. _One_...

"I'm being serious."

_Five_... "So am I."

Sherry tried not to laugh. "You are not. ...I hope."

_Zero_...

If the room hadn't been split before, it was now.

"What the hell...?" Jake's voice trailed off as he stared at the sight before him. He still had the old phone receiver in hand. It was unclear if he realized it was his little _call_ that had triggered what he and Sherry were now witnessing.

"It's a trap of some sort, or... something," Sherry called out, although she didn't sound like she was entirely convinced herself. She was watching a wall come down between herself and Jake, after all, and _fast_, considering how old the place was.

_She_ could at least go back the way she came—the door was on her side, entirely. So much for a perfectly symmetrical room. Then what about Jake...?

"Jake?" Sherry wasn't even sure he'd be able to hear her.

"You alright?" was his response.

"Yeah. You?"

"Fucking wall came down out of nowhere. Oh, floor opened up, too. And now there's a ladder to who the hell knows where."

"Ladder?" There wasn't any ladder on Sherry's side.

"Yeah. Can't tell how far down it goes. Lemme take a quick look." After a short pause, Jake added, "Don't go anywhere, alright?" He was obviously commenting on the fact that he had no other way out; maybe he didn't realize Sherry did.

"Yeah, alright. Just please be careful." Sherry looked around her side of the room. Well, it was its own room now, for all intents and purposes.

_The phone_. Jake had been messing with the phone on his side. But how could he possibly have known what... _code_ to dial in to trigger the _hidden wall_ to come crashing down between them? He couldn't have. He was just messing around.

Sherry headed for the small desk the phone was on and brought the receiver to her ear. There wasn't even a dial tone, just some weird static. She looked at the desk—no notepads or even scraps of paper with anything written on them. _She_ sure wasn't going to figure anything out by just messing around—stumble upon the magic number like Jake somehow had. She looked up again, around again. The only numbers in sight were those marking the edition number on the print above the phone and the small table it was sitting on. 1/150.

Okay then. _One, one, five, zero._

The wall was gone and the room was exactly as it had been, save for one major difference: Jake _wasn't there_. Sherry realized immediately what she'd done: _she'd_ _closed him in down below_.

Before Sherry could head for the other side of the room to try whatever number was on _that_ painting—presumably whatever number Jake had tried—she heard footsteps coming from the hallway outside. From the sound of it, there were at least two people, and they were close.

* * *

**A/N: Did I really go on for 4300 words? XD Wow. Hope it's not all crap. Piers will be around next chapter, promise. :)  
**


	14. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: The Resident Evil characters, so not mine. Me, so no happy.**

**Summary: I don't think that's really necessary at this point, considering I've gone so far off the grid with this. XD Next chapter will be up very soon too. Which is totally what I should say in the summary section right after going 'Man, I don't even know what the crap I'm doing anymore.'**

**A/N: You all may have noticed that lot of the scenes in recent chapters are taking place at damn near the same time. I'll italicize it if it's a scene that takes place far enough back that I think it needs to be set apart. I hope you'll all be able to tell when and where things run together. Let me know if anything is unclear.**

**Also, Leon and Helena are the only ones with earpieces this time around, although they might not always work right... They're the only ones there officially, after all. Everyone else's access to equipment's more limited. Or so I say, for the sake of making it that much more dramatic when people are split up.**

* * *

Whatever, or _whoever_ had triggered that gate to drop in the guest house—well, that was just it. Helena had to consider it was another person's doing. Either way, she hadn't been able to raise the bars. She swore she'd flipped every switch in the house, rummaged through every cupboard and drawer before determining it was best to move on and regroup with Leon later. She couldn't afford the time and depending on where he was at the moment, he might not be able to either.

She asked, "You still okay?" trying to sound breezy, or least calm. Hoping her nerves couldn't be transmitted wirelessly, along with her words.

Leon was far enough away by then they had to communicate remotely. He'd confirmed everything was fine and he was moving forward at a good pace but that he didn't like the look of what he was seeing wherever the hell he was.

Helena had offered a less-than-enthusiastic, "Yeah, I bet," and followed it up with, "I'm heading back outside, for the main house. I'll find a way down below and we'll meet up."

Leon's response, thick with static but still understandable, was, "You see her first, you take her. You got it, Helena? Colette Simmons is priority one."

With a simple, "Got it," Helena continued forward.

The fog had gotten thicker in the short time she and Leon had been inside. It was damp and a little chilly but it was quiet, at least. The shiver that traveled the length of her spine when she reached the main gate had little to do with the temperature, though.

Open. Unlocked and open. Helena could tell by looking at the keypad it had been forced, too. No security in sight. She couldn't help but wonder the kind of evil it would take to be the enemy of the Simmons family. She knew better than to hope her fellow intruders were allies.

'The enemy of my enemy...' It was a nice theory but it didn't often pan out.

Didn't make that Ada woman anymore of an ally, did it? Neutral, at best. Well, she was Leon's to deal with, either way. Whoever she really was, whatever her agenda really was.

That BSAA captain either. Chris Redfield was someone who _truly_ should have been on the same side as they were but she couldn't help having some reservations about the man...

Helena made her way to the front entrance to find a similarly tampered with keypad. She eased the front door open and slowly stepped inside.

High ceiling, long, curved, carpeted staircase leading to the east, and a huge, _million_-bulb chandelier. _Fantastic_. Sure didn't look like sneaking around in the shadows was gonna be easy. Still, Helena had her mission—_missions_, rather. Reunite with Leon and bring Colette Simmons in for questioning, _after_ conducting a thorough investigation of the premises. They couldn't hold her for long, or charge her with anything if there was no evidence of wrongdoing. Gathering said evidence was as important, if not more important than finding the woman herself at this point.

Time to start looking then. Helena crossed the main hall, passing through a thick, sturdy polished door into a dimly lit hallway and closed the door behind her. This was quite a change considering where she'd just come from.

She knew she'd have to search every room, not knowing where she might find just the clue she'd need. Nothing special about this room, though. A sun room. Probably more impressive during the day, but at night it was just creepy. Maybe if the windows weren't almost entirely covered in vines. Maybe if it weren't overlooking a giant stone wall. It'd seem like less of a sick joke, at least.

Determining there was nothing of use, Helena passed through the door on the other end of the room and into the next hallway. She resisted the urge to reach for her earpiece and ask Leon 'Is it creepy as hell on your end, too?' mostly because she already knew the answer.

The only door on the right side of the hallway Helena had just entered was the one she'd just come through. To the left, however, were three doors, equally spread apart. One end of the hallway stopped, abruptly, marked only by a plain wall with a framed painting hung on it. At the other end was a narrow staircase, much more modest than the one in the main hall.

Before Helena could ponder what was behind each door, she heard a male voice complaining, "Another dead end?"

There was something familiar about the voice but she couldn't quite place it. Whoever he was, she'd see his face soon enough. She could hear his footsteps on the stairs. His and one other set, presumably those belonging to whomever he was speaking to. By their conversation, Helena guessed _they_ were the ones who'd hacked the main gate's security system—those 'enemy of my enemy' types she had a feeling she'd be running into sooner or later.

"Can't say I'm that surprised. We'll just have to find another way."Helena had no trouble placing _that_ voice.

Picador aimed, she waited for whoever was in front to round the corner. Good, it was _him_. "Chris Redfield."

* * *

Leon moved forward, able to keep a good pace, thanks to the fact there was no resistance. It was shaping up to be like the complex below the Tall Oaks Cathedral, though smaller in size and minus the infection. The Simmons family must've had tons of places like this around the country, around the _world_. This one just happened to still be in working order. The underground seemed to be a mix of supply rooms, _cells_, and research rooms. Leon knew he was getting closer to something by the sound of female voices speaking back and forth.

He could only hope one of them was Colette. He reached for his earpiece. "Helena," he called out, though he couldn't risk much more than a whisper, as he inched forward.

There was no response.

"I may have her. I've gotta move up and confirm it's really her, though."

Still no response.

Leon shook his head and with no choice but to move on without any reply from his partner, he stepped up.

The door separating him from whoever the women were was thick but had a small open slot near the top. At least he'd be able to hear what was going on inside and get a feel for the situation before busting in.

It was the only door nearby for quite a stretch, so Leon took that to mean the room was pretty big.

"Don't they look cozy," one female voice mused. She sounded pretty pleased with herself.

"Yes Ma'am. They all took to the procedure. The concern was that they would display resistance to the original virus because of the similarities between both strains. But as you can see, they've all entered Chrysalid form." The second voice was higher, definitely coming from a younger woman, and a subordinate.

The first woman was either Colette herself, or someone damn high up on the Simmons family totem pole. Her nonchalant, "Excellent. I'd have expected no less from you. I'd also have _accepted_ no less," confirmed it.

"If I had more time, I could devise a method of replication using the enhanced virus alone. She may have been working at something similar herself, and just wasn't able to complete the research before she—"

"_There is no time_," the older, obviously in-charge female insisted, her tone clipped.

"Yes Ma'am. Anyway, there's no way to know what their complete mutations will be," the young, high-pitched voice admitted, regretfully. "I know that's not the focus of the experiment but—"

"That doesn't concern me," the older voice interrupted, flippantly. However, she was far more serious when she continued, "As long as it works on Piers Nivans, and you've _assured_ _me_ it will."

What the hell was being done inside that room? On this island? And what the hell did it have to do with Chris's partner?

"It should, Ma'am."

"It _should_?"

"Well, I—we can't know for certain until we actually conduct the experiment on him. But this proves that someone—_they_ prove that someone infected with the enhanced C-virus isn't completely immune to the original C-virus because the primary difference between the two strains was the elimination of the Chrysalid state in achieving a complete mutation."

There was a long pause before the high-pitched voice continued speaking.

"He neither achieved complete mutation, nor was he ever exposed to the component of the virus that causes one to transform into a Chrysalid in the first place. It should work." Leon knew he'd better pay attention; something important was being explained.

As if he'd been able to do anything but listen; there was no way around hearing _this_. Even if he didn't know what it all meant just yet.

"Should, should, _should_. I'm beginning to think I _should_ use _you_ as a test subject. It would certainly put _my_ mind at ease."

"You need me, Ma'am," the younger one pleaded.

"I need your research, equipment, and the virus. I have all of those things. And Piers Nivans. I'll have him soon enough, too."

Leon could hear high-heeled footsteps followed by a door opening and closing; luckily it wasn't the one he was standing right next to. No, there was another exit to that room and someone had used it. It was likely the woman in charge. Colette. He was sure it was her. So he'd have to chase her down after all. Least it gave him time to get some answers out of the researcher girl. She seemed like she'd be pretty easy to crack. She'd just been rattled by the boss, after all. He also needed to see what was in that room.

Leon gave it a moment before swinging the door open and stomping in, gun raised, demanding, "Hands up. Agent Kennedy, United States government."

The girl—God, she looked like a kid—let out a little squeak and insisted, "I wasn't doing anything!"

"The hell you weren't," Leon said, with a groan.

How old was she? How old _wasn't_ she was a better question. Her brown hair was split into low pigtails and her big green eyes stared at Leon from behind a pair of Clark Kent style glasses. Beneath her oversized lab coat she wore a Talk Nerdy to Me t-shirt and faded jeans.

Leon glanced around. It really did look like Tall Oaks. Computer panels, a couple of gurneys, and oversized cages. The cages were _full_. Occupied with rocky, human-shaped cocoons. Must've been all that _Chrysalid_ business the researcher girl and the woman Leon had since decided was Colette were talking about.

"Was that Colette Simmons you were talking to?" Might as well confirm it.

"How did you know?" Pale green eyes blinked, as if trying to chase away the curiosity twinkling within them.

Good. Next question. "Who are these people?" Leon pointed to the chrysalids.

"They worked the grounds here. _I can't tell you these things—"_ The girl shook her head. She backed away a few steps but didn't attempt to run.

Well, that helped explain the lack of security. Leon didn't say anything out loud about it, though. Instead, he attempted to bargain with the girl, "If you're worried about your boss finding out, don't be. She's gonna be coming with me. I can't promise you full immunity but I'll do what I can if you cooperate."

"If I betray her I won't live that long."

"Sounds like you're already on her shit list—" Leon stopped himself. He was waiting for the girl to give her name.

Instead, she fiercely shook her head. Seemed she had a little fight in her after all.

Leon insisted, "I need to know what's going on here."

Now she was crossing her arms. "I think it's pretty obvious," was the girl's attempt at a blow-off. Or maybe to look strong.

"I know _these_ guys were infected to make sure whatever she's planning to do to Piers Nivans works. Question is: what's she planning to do to Piers Nivans, and why him, anyway?"

This girl _knew_ the answer. Stubborn as she might pretend to be, Leon knew she was still his best, and possibly his only option. Colette'd lawyer up right away. Who else could he ask? Even anyone with a connection to Piers was unlikely to have an answer for him.

Unless...

Did _Ada_ know? Was that why she'd high-tailed it out of that facility in China and taken Piers with her? Was that why those Suits were after the two of them back there? Was it Colette Simmons who'd sent them? Hunnigan said she'd been snooping around for info on Neo-Umbrella facilities overseas, specifically in China...

Leon knew there was an enhanced version of the C-virus. _That_ bit of overheard information wasn't news to him. He'd heard it from Sherry, who had found out about it while she and Jake were held captive at _that same facility_ in China. She hadn't been able to provide a sample, but she did back up all of Jake's data files.

Those files detailed six months worth of experimenting to improve the virus. There was no telling how many samples were actually out there, though, or how long it took, not to mention _what_ it took to create one.

Colette Simmons had undoubtedly gotten her hands on a sample and had managed to produce more of the virus from it, thanks to this _girl_. It was simple: Colette had the money, the manpower, and the desire to do so. The only thing that seemed lacking was the time. How and _when_ did she get her hands on a sample?

He had an idea and he didn't like it. Everything pointed to Ada.

"When did you get the sample?" Leon asked, suddenly, and _roughly_.

Leon's tone must've scared the researcher girl because she jumped, and very quickly responded, "July, first couple of weeks."

"How?" Leon demanded, refusing to let up. Least he was gettin' some answers outta her now.

"I don't know." Or not.

"Bullshit."

She wasn't letting up, either, though. "I swear, I don't know."

"Who did it come from?"

"I don't know any of Ms. Simmons' associates. I hardly get out of the lab."

Leon shrugged and shook his head. She was probably telling the truth. Her complexion certainly supported the statement.

"I just know that's when she brought it to me and made me get to work on extracting a viable sample of the virus."

"Viable sample?" Leon repeated the girl's words, almost unconsciously. "What was wrong with it?"

"It wasn't pure; it was a blood sample from someone who'd been infected. It still worked. I—I did it. I was able to manufacture the virus for Ms. Simmons and complete a genetic profile of the subject."

"Piers Nivans?" Leon guessed.

"How did you know?"

Before Leon could respond, they both heard it: footsteps approaching from the hallway outside where _he'd_ entered from.

"Hang on," Leon instructed, heading for the door.

He peered through the open slot. He'd wait for whoever it was to make it a few steps past so he could come at them from behind. He stood so he could see the face of whoever was approaching, not that it would matter.

Or so he thought, until it was Jake Muller's face that came into view.

* * *

"Agent—" Chris's voice trailed off when it became clear he didn't know Helena's name.

"Harper. What the hell do you think you're doing here?"

"I'm not here officially," Chris answered. It almost seemed like he was trying to appease her.

Piers stepped up next to Chris, eyeing Helena with a certain amount of suspicion. He didn't say anything.

Helena managed a chuckle. "Yeah, that's pretty obvious," she remarked, looking Piers over. She recognized him as the same partner Chris had been working with in Lanshiang, but...

Wasn't he listed among the _casualties_? He'd been wounded, that was obvious from one look at his right side. Well, he clearly wasn't _dead_, but he'd lost his right arm, and whatever had taken it had left some scars—mostly on his neck and along the jaw line. Still, there was an intensity in his eyes that couldn't be ignored—a determination that couldn't be denied. It was probably that very stubbornness that'd gotten him wounded in the first place.

Not that Helena was one to talk.

"Well," Helena began. "I _am_ here officially. Leave now and I'll pretend I never saw you."

"That's not gonna happen." Piers was the one to refuse.

Helena couldn't pretend to be surprised. She saw a certain amount of herself in him. Even if she was impressed with his resolve, she just couldn't allow this right now.

"You here _alone_, in addition to being here _officially_, Agent Harper?" Chris asked.

"Of course not," Helena replied.

"I'm not leaving without finding her," Piers insisted. Helena couldn't help but notice that it seemed more like he was talking to _Chris_ though he stared at _her_ as he spoke.

Helena was compelled to point out, "My orders are to bring one Colette Simmons in. I can't allow anyone to interfere with that."

"I'm not talking about _her_," Piers muttered.

_Wait, what?_

Chris jerked his head to the side, to the closest door in the hallway they now occupied. It was his way of suggesting they duck in there and sort things out.

Helena nodded. Cooperating with Chris and Piers probably wasn't the best idea but it was preferable to working against them. At the very least she might be able to get some information out of them.

The door was unlocked, its wobbly knob threatening to fall off as Helena pushed it open and stepped inside. It creaked on its rusty hinges both when it was opened and when Piers closed it behind them after they were all inside. The trio allowed themselves a moment to look around. Looked like they were in a guest bedroom, or what had been one at some point.

The lone window was barred, the metal hugged by dead, dried vine. Some rogue ivy had even begun to creep into the room starting at the windowsill. Most of the vines were dried and withered but a few fresh, bright, vibrant green leaves grew at the tips.

The room was rather empty for its size; it was larger on the inside than expected. Its only furnishings were a double bed in the middle, a small bureau, a bookshelf, and a few chairs. The room was void of a TV and any other modern amenities. A small, worn rug had been placed in front of the oddly arranged bookcase. All but one row was empty and _it_ was stuffed.

Piers headed for the bookcase, glancing over the titles that lined the only shelf that was getting any use. Classics—old, beat-up copies, most of them.

"So you're here with Leon?" Chris guessed.

Helena didn't respond. That in itself was a giveaway.

"Thought so." Chris chuckled. "Where is he?"

"We were separated." Since Chris had figured it out, there was no use hiding it anymore. There wasn't much to figure out, anyway.

Piers spoke up suddenly, though he didn't look back as he asked, "Did _she_ tell him to come here?"

"I'm here on official business, in case you both forgot. She who?" Helena's surprise over the question was genuine.

"Didn't get any intel from an _anonymous informant_ that led to this _official business _of yours?" Piers continued, from his position at the bookshelf.

"Anonymous informant? You talking about _Ada Wong_, Piers?" Chris was the one to ask. Helena couldn't help but notice the way he sort of gritted his teeth when he spoke her name.

"What does she have to do with any of this?" she asked. She stopped herself rather quickly, though, almost before she'd even finished her question.

Ada Wong, huh? No denying the woman had plenty of information about the Simmons family, and that _Derek_ Simmons had some creepy obsession with her. The nonsense he was shouting while they unloaded everything they had into him _and then some_ was proof of it.

Ada and Simmons had a past, alright. Then again, so did _Leon and Ada_.

Bringing her finger to her ear, Helena asked, "Leon, where are you?"

No answer.

After a moment, Helena resigned, "He's not responding." She took a moment before adding, "If there's a connection, _we'll_ find it. Get out of here already. He's not fit to be in the field, officially or not. You know that."

"I know," Chris agreed.

Helena couldn't help but notice the guilt in Chris's voice. It was the first time she'd really seen him show emotion. Besides wanting to kill a key witness in a fit of rage the first and only other time they'd met, that is. Whatever had happened to his partner... It was obvious Chris blamed himself. Then why the hell would he have let him come into a place like this in his condition?

"I'm standing right here," Piers muttered. He still wouldn't face either Chris or Helena. He holstered his gun—a pistol, no more using weapons he couldn't fire one-handed—and ran his index finger along the spine of a particular book. It stood out against the others. It was... different than the rest.

"I'm not going anywhere, Agent Harper," Chris spoke again, no hint of remorse in his voice this time—just steadfast determination. "Neither is he."

"Thanks, Captain," Piers said, quietly, though he was easily heard. He reached for the book he'd been eyeing. He'd hardly pulled it from the shelf before the floor beneath him opened up and he disappeared from sight.

The trap door had already closed before Chris or Helena had any hope of reaching Piers. Chris's useless cry of, "Piers!" hardly spanned the same amount of time. The only proof Piers been with them just seconds before was the book he'd grabbed hold of; that was undoubtedly what had sprung the trap in the first place. Even the rug that'd been covering the trap door had gone with him.

_Resurrection_. _Tolstoy_. Helena hadn't read it. The title itself was a little unnerving, though, for the way it forced her, yet again, to consider that Derek Simmons might not really be dead. From what she'd seen... How could his return be anything _other_ than a resurrection?

Something about the book must've struck a chord with _Piers_, too, the way he'd reached out to it. He probably didn't anticipate he'd fall through the floor for grabbing at it, though.

* * *

**A/N: ****I gave such a garbage excuse for why Piers **_**might not**_** be immune to the cloning process. Awesome. Kinda like needing a new flu vaccine every year because there's a different strain to contend with or something. FLU EQUALS C-VIRUS in DonutMistress land. I make myself LOL. I'm gonna sit back and think about how Derek Simmons mutated into a _dinosaur_ to make myself feel better about the things _I_ come up with. Mostly how at least THAT wasn't one of them.  
**

**Back on the subject of Piers, though, I think he needs to come across Ada soon...**

**Oh, and I read that there were 12,000 plus failed attempts to recreate Ada between 1998 and 2009 when Carla was used and it finally worked. I don't think that means the process itself takes so long, I think it's just the need for having the right subject.:)**


	15. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: None of the Resident Evil characters are mine. I don't want them all. Just let me molest Piers for a while. I totally could've molested an attractive Piers cosplayer at my local con a few months back and didn't. Damnit. Well, could've **_**tried**_**.**

**A/N: Finally startin' to get back to my roots on this one. In terms of the ****dynamic**** when the story first began. Dunno about anyone else, but I was missin' the Ada/Piers interaction.  
**

* * *

"I know what you're thinking," Colette murmured. Her heels clicked—echoed almost—against the stone floor as she paced circles around Ada.

"Oh, I'm sure you think you do," Ada replied, with a sigh. So, she was going to have to listen to the woman ramble some more.

She'd done it willingly (more or less), as they walked the corridors, each darker than the last, until they reached the point of no return and she was strapped down to a very crude looking metal table... thing. What, was someone going to come by to spin her around and throw knives at her later?

It wouldn't surprise her.

Needless to say, Ada wasn't going anywhere for a while. Metal restraints at the wrists and ankles, with thick leather straps across the thighs, waist, and bust. It was going to take a bit to work her way out of this... It'd been a while since Ada had been 'captured'. Truth be told, it was more of a surrender, even if it was a strategic move.

She'd figure her way out at some point. Take advantage of someone's sloppy mistake—sloppy _everything_—and make her escape. It was either that or _wait_ for rescue. She knew the government would send someone in for Colette _eventually_, but unless it was Leon, she didn't have any plans to cooperate with that someone. Or laze about and wait that long.

What Ada did when it came to Leon didn't so much count as _cooperating_, either, and that was only because it was Leon.

"_You're_ thinking I played my cards too early." Colette was speaking again. Oh, joy.

It certainly wasn't something Derek or any elder Family member would've done, that's for sure. Colette had been making a splash, practically since the moment she took over. What were they thinking, giving her the reins?

"And that I failed to keep my most dangerous adversary from finding out where I was going."

Didn't she ever shut up? Ada had to remind herself this was what it was all for; she needed to know what Colette was planning in the moment.

"Well, I _had_ to get you here, so I could take you out, didn't I? Getting you here has saved me the trouble of sending someone after you."

_Interesting_. To think Ada had let herself fall for such _obvious_ bait. She snorted, but just a bit. She knew she was walking into a trap to a certain extent, but it was true, she was counting on being able to exploit Colette's overconfidence. She definitely saw it as the woman's Achilles heel.

"And Nivans. Of course, I have no intention of getting rid of _him_. You know, I actually thought I'd have to go and claim _him_. Who'd have thought he'd come for you?"

Bluffing. She had to be. No way Piers would've stormed Colette's... dungeon, or whatever she thought this place to be, for her. Even if he somehow found out about the place. No, Colette was trying to lure Ada into admitting something—giving up Piers's whereabouts to her, as if _she_ knew them. That _reeked_ of something Colette would do.

Well, too bad for little Ms. Simmons. Ada hadn't the slightest idea where Piers was. Not since she'd left him behind to make preparations for the mission to take care of Colette herself. If Colette was trying to trick Ada into revealing information about his current location, that meant _she'd_ lost track of him somewhere along the way. She'd been watching them, hadn't she?

"A valiant, if completely wasted effort." Ada finally spoke up.

Silence. No more clicking; Colette stopped pacing and leaned in close. She contemplated pulling Ada's hair but wondered if she wouldn't enjoy that on some level, so she grabbed Ada's face instead, roughly digging her thumb into one cheek and her fingers into the other.

"Do you know what I'm going to do to you?" Colette whispered. It was practically a hiss.

"Oh, I don't know. Torture me until I tell you where Piers Nivans is?" Ada guessed. It was a little bit hard to sound smug while her face was being so thoroughly _smooshed_.

"Why would I do that? I already know." Colette didn't sound like she was lying. She gave Ada's cheeks one last squeeze and punctuated releasing her grip on Ada's face with a rough shove. "I," There was a purposeful pause, and the heel-clicking—the pacing—resumed. "Am going to _destroy_ you. But I think I'll wait a bit."

"Whatever for?" Ada deadpanned.

"_Him_ first."

* * *

Helena was studying the rest of the books on the shelf, while Chris was still holding onto the worn copy of _Resurrection_ that'd sent Piers through the floor. "This is just like what happened to Leon. _Damnit_."

It wasn't _just_ like that but it was close enough.

If she could just figure _this_ trap out, maybe they could follow after Chris's partner. They'd called out to him through the floor several times and gotten no reply. Could've been because he was no longer within earshot. There was no way of knowing how far he'd fallen, after all. Chris had tried sending messages to his phone with no reply, either. The fall could've broken his phone. That being said, the lack of response could've been because the fall had knocked Piers unconscious—broken more than just his phone.

It could've been any number of things, none of which were good.

Chris's grip on the book tightened for just a moment before he threw it against the wall.

Helena couldn't help but flinch a little. She didn't turn to face Chris; she could imagine the look on his face, the rage in his... _everything_. She slid her hand into the small space the book had so recently occupied then reached for the titles to each side. There was an obvious indentation in the middle... That was it. The trap was triggered by the size, shape, and weight of _that_ book. Soon as that copy of _Resurrection_ had been lifted, the door opened up.

"I figured it out," she announced, unable to completely contain her excitement.

"Doesn't matter," was the gruff, unimpressed response she received.

Was he kidding? The guy was all over the place.

"We can open it again. We can get to him and—"

Chris cut her off as he approached. "Won't go so soon after being tripped. Betcha anything. Seen a few tricks like this in my day. _Fuck_."

"You've got some nerve, bringing him here in the first place," Helena muttered.

Though he glared daggers at Helena, a remarkably subdued sounding, "I'll do _whatever it takes_ to get him out of here," was all that came out of his mouth.

"Yeah, well, anytime you're ready," Helena snorted.

"Give me the book then," Chris instructed. He hardly allowed her any time to refuse _or_ comply before adding, _"Come on."_

Hold on a—_he_ was the one who had thrown it at the wall in the first place. Helena let out another snort but accepted the _order_, took those few steps away from the bookcase, and retrieved the book for Chris.

Well, at least the thing was still in one piece, if a little worse for wear. She handed it over and watched as Chris lined the books up, just as they had been, stepped to the side, pulled at the tattered and very recently abused copy of _Resurrection_, and...

Nothing.

Chris had been right.

Still, he tried it again.

Nothing.

He glanced back and asked, "Satisfied?" It was clear he wasn't, even if he'd been right.

_Nobody_ was satisfied. They were still separated from Piers. The distance was unknown, his condition, wherever he was, also unknown. To top it off, the trap that'd split them up couldn't be triggered again, despite the fact they'd figured out _how_ it worked.

Even if it _had_ worked, what would they have done next? The trap door had closed so fast. They had no obvious means of keeping it open long enough to pull Piers back up, or anything to pull him up with. Unless Chris was hiding a rope somewhere on his person...? Helena sure wasn't.

Their best option would've been to drop through the floor and proceed from wherever the hell Piers had ended up. Sounded like a pretty shitty option.

Helena sighed. "Alright then, what exactly do you suggest we do now?" She'd done it before she even realized it: she'd used the word 'we'.

"I'm gonna figure out another way to find my partner. You comin'?"

Helena scoffed, but got little more than "Tch," out before she and Chris both heard it.

And _felt_ it. Somebody was moving something nearby—something _big_. A low, rocky, rumbling sound accompanied the vibrations beneath their feet.

"I know," Chris agreed, without being asked.

He headed into the hallway first and Helena followed right behind. They'd have to use their best judgment in figuring out where the sound had come from. It was quiet now.

No sound aside from low-voiced, back and forth calls of "Clear," between Chris and Helena.

Until...

That same low rumbling sound, those same vibrations, and this time, there was no mistaking where it was coming from.

"This way," Chris called out, speeding up to a jog.

Helena matched his pace. Reaching the door to the room they knew the noise had come from, they shared a quick nod before Chris threw it open and charged inside.

"Chris?"

"Sherry? What the hell are you doing here?" Chris had taken the words right out of Helena's mouth.

"This place—I need to find proof of the things happening here. She has to be stopped before she has a chance to get to Piers," was Sherry's answer. She was honest, but certainly chose her words carefully.

The only person she mentioned by name was Piers. She probably figured she was safe in using his name by the fact that Helena and Chris _appeared_ to be working together.

"_Goddamnit_," Chris swore. He did it quietly, but the force behind the word was undeniable. "I knew he was the real target. Hell, _he_ knew he was the real target."

"Okay, enough!" Helena shouted. She hadn't meant to yell—okay, she had, just maybe not so loud. It did the trick, though, and she had Chris and Sherry's attention. "He's not _my_ target. In fact, I'm still not entirely sure how it is he's even alive, considering he's on my department's official casualty list for the Lanshiang incident."

"_You're_ here for Colette Simmons, aren't you?" Sherry piped up. Head tilted to the side, she eyed Helena as she spoke.

"Something like that," Helena answered.

"They notice I'm gone yet?" Sherry wondered. She seemed oddly calm about it.

Helena's expression matched her declaration of, "Oh yeah."

"Piers. How the hell does Piers fit into all of this, Sherry? You know, don't you?" Chris interjected.

"You don't?" She sounded genuinely surprised. She glanced to Helena. "Either of you? He's not _here, _is he?" Though Sherry was asking a question, by her tone it was clear she already knew the answer.

"Right fucking next to me until a few minutes ago." If Chris had had something else to throw in that moment, he would've.

"Jake too," Sherry said, with a nod that quickly became a regretful shake of the head.

"And Leon," Helena chimed in. "Well, it's been a while, but yeah."

"We'll find them," Sherry insisted. "I know where Jake is, and I think I know how to get to him."

Helena gave a 'do tell' sort of look but didn't say anything.

Sherry wasted no time in explaining, "There's a ladder in this room that leads down below."

Helena glanced around. She sure didn't see any ladders. She saw a creepy room where everything was in pairs and it was _weird_, but no ladder, or, _ladders _would probably be more like it. Chris, however, nodded. He seemed to accept the statement without question. Hadn't struck him the least bit odd.

All Chris said in response was, "Piers is down below now too. Let's see what you've got."

"Right. Just make sure you're on _this_ side of the room before I try anything, okay?" Sherry waited until Helena and Chris were close before she made her move. She lifted the phone receiver, looked to the print on the wall just above the phone and dialed in the numbers marked along its edge.

Zero, one, five, zero...

A wall came down, splitting the room in half, and a small square in the floor opened up, revealing a ladder down.

"This is where Jake went. He was just gonna take a quick look around, and I—the phone on the other side of the room raises the wall and closes this up. I didn't know it would seal it _all_ off when I—" Sherry's voice trailed off. She gave a firm nod. "I just hope he hasn't gone too far."

Chris stepped up. "Let's move."

"Why did _this_ work, but—" Helena began to ask but was cut off before she could finish the question.

"_That_ was a trap. _This_ is a passageway," was Chris's reply. _"Let's move."_

* * *

Piers figured he might have to do a full sweep of the location to find Ada, and that it might include a dank basement. He just hadn't planned on dropping through the floor to reach that basement. He looked up. There was no getting back up there from where he was now.

Who knows how long it'd take Chris and that agent to find another way down to the dungeon. The room he'd ended up in sure had the look of an old prison cell. No cot anymore but a faded rectangular outline on the cement floor gave away where one used to be; the reddish discoloration was likely a mix of rust and blood. The door was wood—old, but thick and solid—with only a mail slot sized opening at about eye-level.

Piers knew it was likely pointless but he had to check—locked. So he'd have to kick the door open. The hinges were covered in cobwebs and behind those cobwebs, _rust_. He trusted he could do it. He'd kick the thing off its hinges if that was what it took to get out.

Piers listened for a moment; it was quiet. He reached for his thigh rig, for his gun. If there was anyone nearby, they'd hear him bust through the door for sure. He had to be ready for a confrontation. He just hoped he didn't come upon something he couldn't drop, or at least _wound_ with 9mm rounds, or he was screwed.

Piers was about a second away from kicking at the door when he heard it. High heels...? Good thing he'd heard her before he made a move. He backed away from the door, doing his best to make sure he couldn't be seen through the door's peep slot. He waited until her footsteps were past him before peeking out.

It was only a glance but it was enough. The lady of the house. Piers couldn't help but wonder where she was headed off to. Not to mention where she'd just come from. If he hadn't been forced to wait so damn long before he could try to break out of the room he was stuck in, he'd have had a chance to follow her more closely. Without the telltale clicking of her heels, he wasn't sure which way to go, beyond left versus right.

He took a deep breath, took a step back, and put his boot to the door. Two kicks and it was open. He hoped he hadn't drawn too much attention to himself. No footsteps, high-heeled or otherwise, so he took that to mean he was in the clear, for the moment, at least, and inched into the hallway.

Piers moved forward, stopping only to peek through the small eye-level slots at each door—rooms like the one he'd just busted out of. All empty so far. He'd reached the end of the hallway. No, not the end... The hallway continued, though it cut sharply to the left.

The door at the end of the hallway—the beginning of the next hallway was probably more accurate—was different. It seemed to lead to an actual room. It had an actual knob, for one.

Still, the routine would be the same: peek through the slot, and if it was empty, move along. If it wasn't... well, it would depend on what was inside if it was worth trying to get in.

Through the small rectangular gap Piers could see that the room was larger than the one _he'd_ landed in and any of the ones he'd been peeking into. Better stocked, too. Well, not _better_ stocked. Most importantly, though, the room was _occupied_. Someone was strapped to an old metal table of some sort. Female. He couldn't make out her face because her head was turned away. But the long, lean build, and short, dark hair...

"_Ada?"_

She turned her head. It _was_ her. Now Piers just had to get to her. If Ada was restrained, she was likely locked in, too.

Yup. A quick tug on the doorknob confirmed it.

So he'd get in there the same way he'd gotten out of that—well, _cell_, for lack of a better word.

The door now open, Piers headed straight for Ada.

"What do you think you're doing here?" was the response he got from her, as he looked over the restraints.

"You're welcome."

"I'm sorry, Piers. That was incredibly manly. I'm very impressed."

Piers couldn't help but chuckle. Ada couldn't have been too bad off if she was making jokes. He holstered his gun. It was getting damn tedious but he knew he couldn't hold onto it and free her at the same time.

There was a welt on the right side of her face, but otherwise, she didn't seem to be injured. Piers couldn't help noticing it, and asked, "You alright?"

"You shouldn't be here."

Piers took that as a 'yes' or as close to one as he was going to get and began working at the shackle around Ada's right arm. "And you?"

"I'm exactly where I need to be," Ada insisted. Somehow, she sounded like she meant it.

"I can tell," Piers muttered, adding, "It's about damn time," when the arm shackle finally popped.

"A minor, but very necessary detour," Ada insisted. Right hand free, she began work on the left hand herself.

Piers was unbuckling the thick leather strap across Ada's waist. He'd purposely skipped over the one across her chest. She could deal with that one herself. "For your sake, I hope it was." He glanced up, but just for a second. "Necessary, that is."

"Likewise." Ada paused, fumbling a bit with her metal cuff over her left wrist. This was harder to do one-handed than she was anticipating, though she'd never admit it to Piers. "I take it _Agent_ Birkin didn't fill you in on the details before leading you here?"

_"Agent Birkin...?"_ Piers was searching his memory for the name. He'd moved onto the strap across Ada's thighs. He gave a quick nod when the name stuck. Then he shook his head. "No."

Yet another name to add to his ever-growing 'what the hell does _that_ person have to do with any of this?' list.

"I had _hoped_ she'd keep an eye on you, keep you _away_ from here, from this. Seems she misunderstood my intentions." Ada exaggerated a sigh.

Piers rolled his eyes. Ada wouldn't see it. Although, she'd surely hear him mutter, "Can't imagine how _that_ happened."

Left hand free now, too, Ada moved onto the strap stretched across her bust. Once she took care of it, she'd be able to sit up.

When Ada didn't respond to his remark—not really that surprising—Piers admitted, "There's agents here, alright, but I can't say if she's one of them. Somebody Harper, and your friend, _Leon_. He's supposed to be around here somewhere, anyway. I haven't actually _seen_ him, though. Just his partner, Harper."

Ada sat upright—shot upright was more like it. The action took Piers by surprise and he looked up from his position at her feet, where he was still working on the leg shackles. "What are they here for? Do you know?" she demanded, showing more emotion than usual.

Ada knew the government would send someone in after Colette at _some_ point, if things escalated to such a level... She surely didn't think _things_ already had, though. Even if it was only precautionary, the government had to have been quite confident in their intel. They believed they had enough on her to warrant sending agents in after her. Not just any agents, either.

"I don't know what _you're_ here for," Piers reminded her, still working at the restraints around her ankles.

"_You_ weren't supposed to know I was here at all." Leaning forward, Ada touched Piers's hand as she spoke. It was her way of signaling for him to back off. She had this.

Piers obliged. The faster they got out of here, the better. "They're here for Colette Simmons. I assume you are, too."

The last of Ada's restraints popped. She slid off the table. On her feet and _truly_ face-to-face with Piers, she said, "That's right."

Demanding eye contact, Piers asked, "Why?"

"My equipment," was all Ada said, turning away. "I have to figure out what they did with it when they tossed me in here."

"I don't know what kind of people you're used to dealing with, but you're not getting away without giving me an answer," Piers insisted.

"Neither of us is going to be getting away if you keep stalling."

Piers wanted to laugh, but not because he was amused. "I'm not the one who's stalling."

"I'm here to make sure what happened to Carla Radames doesn't happen again," Ada finally admitted.

Piers couldn't hide his confusion. Did this really have _nothing_ to do with him after all? What the hell was he doing here then? What the hell was _Ada_ really doing here? "What? To who?"

Her answer was simple. "To you."

Piers's eyes widened. He _couldn't_ have just heard that right.

Ada did her best to keep a neutral expression. It was one of the more amusing misunderstandings she'd been involved in as of late. "No one has any plans to turn _you_ into another _me_, Piers."

He fought off a chuckle. "Thank God."

"You didn't _really_ think I was suggesting that?" Ada asked, smirking just a bit.

That was what it sounded like. Ridiculous as all get-out, but that was sure what it sounded like. Piers shrugged.

Ada cocked her head to the side and mused, "You could do much worse than me, though, you know?"

"...How much worse?" Piers deadpanned. He knew as well as Ada did that the moment was over. The mood had changed and not for the better.

"Derek C. Simmons."

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, I know in RE5, Chris vs. Giant Boulder at the Volcano of Doom Battleground Arena, the final tally was Chris: 1, Giant Boulder: 0, so he could probably **_**stomp**_** on (or punch, XD) and break the trap door and drop down to where Piers ended up, if we were in a world where logic reigned. But we're not. We're in TheDonutMistress' fanfic, which is based on a video game series where it is canon that Chris Redfield a: punches giant boulders and wins (see above) and b: Derek Simmons mutated into a damn dinosaur. I'm still not ready to let the Dino!Simmons thing go, I'm sorry.**

**Ada n Piers paired up again FTW. Fuck yeah. I have actually really grown to love the idea of sarcastic Ada/Piers co-op where they run around being badasses and just sassmouth each other constantly. To think I started this story out of a post-RE6 OMG PIERS I WILL MAKE YOU ALIVE AGAIN THRU FANFICTION induced depression... **

**I think those dudes in the chrysalids should hatch soon, too.**


	16. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: The Resident Evil characters are not mine. **

**A/N: Lots of notes at the end of the chapter, 'cuz I dunno when to shut my trap. Actually, I'd like to think they're important. Know what else is important? Feedback. So, I offer an overly belated dedication to Sokulski for always reviewing, and usually within a few hours of me updating. :) You are made of awesome. **

**As I said in my profile, I may not be as prompt (like I ever have been) in updating because I'm working on an original sitcom and that's gonna be my main focus for the time being. I had this chapter nearly done, though, so I thought I'd post.  
**

* * *

"Ah, hell," Jake muttered, upon seeing Leon step into the hallway.

"Glad to see you too, Jake." Leon jerked his head to the side in an attempt to direction Jake's attention to the room he'd just come from. "Come on."

"You here alone?" Jake couldn't help but ask. He tried to see what was in that room behind Leon but to no avail.

"Not exactly. You?"

Jake smirked. _"Not exactly."_

"Come on. I actually am glad to see you. Can't reach Helena right now." Leon gestured to his ear, to his ear_piece_. "I need you to do something for me."

"Great." Jake stepped into the room.

What the hell _was_ this place? Upstairs, it was the creepy old mansion nobody ever lasted an entire night in. The basement looked like a _prison_ from the hallway. _This_ room was more like someone decided to remodel the old torture chamber and turn it onto an infirmary and just gave up halfway through.

Gurneys with leather restraints hanging from the sides, a bunch of electronic equipment for monitoring who knows what, and cages big enough for full-grown men to fit in. That was exactly what was inside of them, too. Frozen in place—statues that looked like they could come to life at any time. From past experience, Jake knew they could, and that sooner or later, they would.

That wasn't it, though. The thing that seemed the most out of place had to be _her_. The nerdy little girl in the giant lab coat.

Somehow sensing what Leon was going to say before he had a chance to say it, Jake pointed to the girl and insisted, "Hell no."

Unfazed, Leon made his request anyway, "I need you to get her outta here."

"I'm not here to be a damn babysitter."

"You're not here for anything, Jake," Leon pointed out. It may have been the truth but that sure wasn't gonna win him any favors.

"Yeah? Then why the hell you tryin' to get me to do your dirty work?" Jake asked, smugly.

"I wasn't trying to imply you don't have your reasons for being here. They're probably a lot like mine. I take it Sherry's around here somewhere?" Leon asked, suddenly. He gave it a moment before adding another question to the mix. "You know she's not here on official orders, right?"

"I know. Doesn't bother _me_ at all." Jake stopped speaking and plastered on a shit-eating grin. "You?"

Realizing he'd hit a dead end, that dropping Sherry's name hadn't gotten him anywhere, Leon decided he'd better get back to business. "This girl has information that could _make_ this case for me. I need to be sure she gets out safe. I have another target to pursue. So I'm asking you: will you _please_ escort her out?"

Jake's smirk was gone. "You understand what you're _asking_ me to do?"

Leon nodded. "I'm asking a civilian to participate in an official government mission."

Jake decided to answer his own question when it became clear Leon didn't get his meaning. "You're _asking_ me to haul ass outta here without Sherry."

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" the girl suddenly refused.

"It's alright. You can trust him," Leon insisted.

She scoffed, "I don't trust _you_."

Leon stepped in front of her, demanding her to look at him as he spoke. "Take a look around this place. You cooperate with us or you aren't gettin' outta here. You got it?"

The girl fumed for a moment but finally nodded. She had to have known she was on a time limit. Soon as the boss was done with her, she'd be too much of a liability to be left alive. If government agents and a presumed hired gun were storming the place, things had definitely taken a turn for the worse.

What did she think she was she gonna do when the shit hit the fan—swim for the mainland?

She looked to Jake. "...Alright, fine. I'll go, but—"

"Well, Halleh-friggin-lujah."

"Hey," Leon called out and when Jake ignored him, repeated himself. _"Hey."_

Jake gave Leon a stone-cold stare.

"No one's gettin' left behind, alright. Helena's still around here somewhere, too. I'll just feel a little better about things knowing _this one's_ on the outside when I get my hands on her boss," Leon explained.

"Yeah." Jake's single-word reply was an affirmative but his tone contradicted the statement.

Leon looked to the pint-sized researcher. "You know your way around here, right?"

The girl nodded. "We can access both houses in several places from down here. But we should leave through the staff quarters. It's the old guest house." She paused and added, "I'm pretty much the only one who lives there now. So we shouldn't have to worry about running into anyone if we go through there."

Leon let out a little snort but didn't actually say anything. He didn't need to. The only question he'd have asked would've been _why_ and he already knew: Colette had probably used everyone else that'd once stayed in the guest house as a test subject.

The girl was speaking again. "We just need to go south from here. I'll have to disarm the security system or we won't be able to _get into_ the guest house."

"What kinda security are we talking?" Jake asked, his tone telling that he already didn't like the sound of things.

"It's a pressure sensitive panel at the foot of the stairs that lead up to the main floor. It's _supposed_ _to_ prohibit unauthorized access to the basement area."

Leon snorted again.

"Then I'm guessing it was _you_ who set it off earlier? You probably felt the floor sink beneath your feet. Sometimes I think _security_ does a better job of keeping _me_ down here than keeping anyone else out."

"Hang on a minute," Leon began. "Did you tell your boss someone tripped the gate in the guest house?"

It was the girl's turn to snort. "As much fun as she's having with this, she didn't even care. Didn't even want to send anyone to check it out."

"She's a little short-staffed. Can't really blame her," Leon muttered.

Jake gave an 'I don't get it' look followed very quickly by an expression that made it very clear he'd since figured it out. He pointed to the cages. _"These guys?"_

"You about ready to move out then, Jake?" Leon asked, figuring he was capitalizing on a pretty good moment.

Jake didn't reply to Leon, instead, he looked to the girl. "You ready?"

She shook her head.

"_Christ. _What is it _now_?" he muttered. This was why he didn't take escort jobs.

"I told you, I have to open to gate first, and all of Ms. Simmons'—all of _my_ research is here. You're gonna need that information, right?" She looked to Leon.

He nodded and gave a grudging, "Make it fast."

The girl scurried around the room, flipping switches here and there, settling, at last, on a computer terminal off to the side. She clumsily shuffled through a thick stack of papers, obviously looking for something. The shuffling stopped and she held something between her index finger and thumb: a memory card to back her data up on.

The speed of the download, rather, the complete lack of, made it clear there was a ton of data being backed up. Nobody would go so far as to wish for a distraction to make it seem like things were going faster, still, that was exactly what they were going to get.

A crumbling, crackling sound begged everyone's attention. There... inside one of the cages. A guard-turned-test-subject was breaking free from his shell, and just a few seconds after that, his _cage_.

The worst thing about it was that it still resembled the man it had been before being infected—_twice_, by what Leon had so recently overheard. Something about it all reminded him of that video he'd seen beneath Tall Oaks Cathedral, of Ada, emerging from a Chrysalid. He'd still never gotten an answer as to what it all meant. It couldn't have _really_ been her he was seeing on that old tape...

That was the only time he'd seen something human-looking break free from its cocoon. No, not quite... _Deborah Harper._ Something that still looked like the person it had so recently been, but obviously _wasn't_.

It all spoke of a much larger plot. One Derek Simmons had _hatched_, and that Colette was continuing forward with, in his absence. Unless... Leon was suddenly reminded that one of the main reasons he and Helena had been sent to this place was that Colette Simmons been overheard saying _Derek Simmons_ wasn't really dead. By the experiments going on here, this had been in the works longer than anyone was aware of. Colette herself may have just recently arrived on the island but this had taken some time... A couple of months versus the week or so their intel made it out to be.

Whatever was really going on, whatever this thing really was...

Despite its modest appearance—that of a gooey, stumbling, naked man, truth be told—it had to be pretty strong, to effortlessly throw its cage door across the room the way it did. But once it was free, it seemed content to approach at a snail's pace.

It would've been far less creepy if the thing had just attacked. It tilted its head to the side, almost curiously. Its dead, filmy eyes seemed to be looking around, _observing_. Its veins were more prominent, too, and whatever was pumping through them seemed awfully dark.

"Keep it away from her!" Leon shouted.

"Yeah, no shit!" was the reply Jake shouted back.

"And my data!" the girl yelled. She'd hardly gotten the words out before Jake roughly shoved her behind himself.

"Damnit. We can't let it destroy the computer, or the power supply, either. Just keep her covered, Jake. I got it."

The BOW... It was looking back and forth, as if following the conversation, as if it could still comprehend spoken word.

Well, J'avo could do that, to a certain extent. They could obey simple commands, _give_ simple commands among their own kind; they could obviously use weapons... But this was different. J'avo _kept_ the ability, _kept_ that shred of consciousness, _this_ was more like someone who had lost it and was trying to get it back.

"The fuck are you waitin' for, Hero?" Jake shouted.

"Tryin' to... get a feel for this guy," Leon responded. It wasn't a lie. There was something _way off_ about this thing and attacking it without a strategy would be bad news for everyone.

"Shoot it already!"

"_...Shoot... it... already—"_

Did it just _mimic_ Jake?

Its voice was crackly, gurgly, like it was trying to speak for the first time in too long—like someone trying to play a long out-of-tune instrument. It sort of swayed as it walked. Its big, milky white eyes were unblinking, as it began advancing toward Jake and the girl.

"_...Shoot...it...already—"_ the BOW repeated.

"Happy to oblige," Jake agreed, through gritted teeth, raising his Nine-Oh-Nine and firing a round into its head.

The creature bled something dark and tarry, and staggered back as Leon moved in behind it and fired off two shots, both lodging in the BOW's back. The wounds began to ooze, a slow but very noticeable trail of black creeping along the curve of the BOW's spine.

"_...Shoot...it...already—"_

Why did it keep repeating that?

It continued toward Jake, only momentarily fazed by the bullets. It wasn't moving very quickly, though, and wasn't doing much the way of offense. Until...

It was spreading its arms. Was it finally going to attack?

The computer beeped. The data files had all finished downloading. Nothing anybody could do about that before they did something about the mystery BOW, though.

"His arms!" Jake called out.

Leon couldn't see anything odd about the creature's arms from his position. He moved around to get a look at the thing from the front. Sure enough, now that its arms were open... That _had_ to be its weakness. Some sort of _bulb_—black and swollen-looking—had formed inside each elbow, and it looked raw, _irritated_.

Jake landed a shot to the presumed weak spot, popping the growth like an overfilled water balloon, and the BOW hissed. It wasn't talking now. Instead, it used its uninjured arm to cover the wound for a moment before lashing out and trying to knock Jake's gun out of his hand.

Still, only a defensive move...

The creature's other weak spot was exposed just long enough for Leon to fire off a round. The bullet hit its mark and the bulb, or sac, or _whatever it was_ growing from inside of the BOW's right elbow ruptured and more tarry blood spilled.

It fell to its knees and murmured something neither Jake nor Leon could hear well enough to understand before falling backwards and ending up splayed out on the floor, in a pool of its own thick, dark blood.

"The injection sites!" the researcher girl suddenly piped up. "That must've been where he was injected. Most were injected in the _arm_, but it varied by subject. The number of injections, too. Some took more than others before the procedure would work."

"Oh, so _he_ was a success, huh?" Jake practically spat.

"Jake—" Leon attempted to cut him off. It was a half-hearted effort. He looked to the girl. "Your data's all backed up. Better get going before more of these guys wake up."

They were almost out the door when it happened. Leon's prediction didn't exactly come true but it was close enough that his statement could easily be counted as a jinx.

It was actually the unidentified, tar-bleeding, _mimicking_ BOW that decided to wake up. Both of its elbows bent completely backwards with an audible _crunch_ as _new_ limbs grew in. Two large tentacles sprouted from its back, one for each bullet Leon had put there. Leon and Jake both had a feeling about what would happen next. They'd fought their fair share of J'avo—easily enough to venture a guess.

The BOW's head didn't disappear, wasn't popped open or pushed aside. Instead, the skin, if one could even call it that, began to peel away and fold down on itself, leaving dark, sticky flaps lying limply at the BOWs shoulders and revealing a sea of unblinking, glazed over eyes in both the front and back.

Should've known better than to think it'd be over so easily.

* * *

Well, this was different. A far cry from the crude accommodations Ada'd been given a short while ago. Maybe not a _far_ cry... A step up, though. The room likely served as a security office for the lower level. A couple of lockers along one wall, a file cabinet against another. There was only a single computer in the small, drab room, but several surveillance monitors had been mounted on the wall above a long desk. Most were turned off.

Ada went for the computer, Piers for the lockers.

She heard one clank open, followed by a shuffling sound. More clanking as she began turning the monitors on. Piers had finished with locker one and moved onto the second one. The monitors began humming and blinking to life, those that were inclined to work, at least. The first room to catch Ada's eye was the one she'd been kept in. Good thing nobody was on duty or they'd have seen Piers kick in the door and bust her out. They'd have been caught in no time.

"I think this belongs to you," Piers stepped up, a crossbow in hand, and offered it to Ada.

"And the rest?" Ada asked, determined not to sound impressed.

"It's all there, or so I assume. Got anything?" Piers asked, nodding up at the monitors.

"Not sure," Ada admitted.

They watched the various feeds in silence for a moment.

"Wait, there's someone in that room," Piers pointed out, suddenly.

Sure enough. It was a research room—no, it was more than that. Chrysalids, caged for the moment, and what looked like a child, by Ada's standards, at least. A teenager, most likely, and female, or just very confused, by the pigtails. The door to the room was open and she was looking out but she wasn't moving.

Then _he_ was there... Piers had said Leon was on-site. He hadn't _seen_ him, but knew he was there. Now they were both seeing him. Leon was there, and so was Wesker Jr. They'd both just come into the room from whatever hallway led to it.

Was it far from where Ada and Piers were now?

For the moment, the two seemed to be talking. Muller had just pointed at the girl. He didn't look happy. More presumed talking followed. Then the pigtailed girl began to run around the room, obviously looking for something amongst the mess, settling on the computer in the corner.

_Oh, Leon, always attracting trouble..._

One of the Chrysalids was hatching.

"He—it still looks human. I know it's not, but is it...?" Piers sort of asked. It was a pretty roundabout way of posing a question for someone who was usually so straight-forward.

Ada understood why, though. Piers was trying to ask it without asking it: was _this_ what he had to look forward to if Colette got to him?

"Who's to say _what_ it is," Ada murmured. "You've seen plenty of the things that were supposed to turn into _me_, haven't you?"

"So that's what she's got in store for me then?" There it was.

"And then some."

"And that's what happens when it _doesn't_ work?" Piers was asking.

"Possibly." Ada sighed. "To think, it's so much better than what happens when it _does_."

The... whatever it was, was heading for Wesker Jr. as he stood in front of the pigtailed girl, likely some child prodigy The Family _bought_ or _kidnapped_ or _hatched_ at some point. The—well, it was technically a BOW, wasn't it?—the _BOW_ spread its arms, seemingly in preparation for an attack.

"We're not gonna just sit here and watch," Piers insisted. He didn't sound entirely convinced, though.

"Ye of little faith, Piers," was all Ada said in reply.

Leon could take care of it; he'd better be able to, at least. There were several more Chrysalids in that room, after all.

"We've got bigger problems, or did you forget?" Ada reminded him.

Leon had maneuvered his way around front again. It seemed like he and Wesker Jr. had a handle on things. _Somebody_ had just done something to the BOW that it didn't like...

Piers protested, "That's not the point at all." He leaned forward, getting in close enough to force Ada's gaze away from the monitor and toward him.

"Then what exactly are you doing here, Piers?"

A defeated "Never mind," was the reply Ada received and Piers backed off.

Ada turned her attention back to the monitor. The creature was on the ground, on its back, and not moving. "See? What'd I tell you?"

"We found your equipment. We should get going." If Piers meant to sound stoic in that moment, he failed miserably. His tone dripped with disappointment.

Ada'd be lying if she tried to convince anyone it didn't bother her. She supposed it was a good thing she was an excellent liar. "After you," she offered, smirk forming on her lips. It felt tight and out-of-place. She didn't like it.

Piers ignored her but it wasn't out of stubbornness. He'd leaned forward and was staring intently at the monitor. "It's getting back up."

"What?"

So it was.

"Let's go," she said simply.

Piers nodded.

Ada gathered the rest of her equipment from the locker, maybe _borrowed_ a few things as well, and slammed the locker door shut. Piers seemed oddly pleased about it all. He probably figured she was stocking up for battle. He took far too kindly to the idea, didn't he?

It was true, though. Ada figured she (and Piers) could _possibly_ offer their assistance to Leon and Wesker Jr., _if_ they ended up in the neighborhood. It wasn't a guarantee, though. She had no idea how far that _child_ doctor's lab was from their current location. Still, the girl could be useful...

Piers was already out the door, glancing back and forth before taking a few careful steps forward before calling out, "Clear."

Ada stole one last glance at the monitors, prepared to follow right behind him, until she saw movement on another one of the screens.

_Well, well, well..._ Ada couldn't help but wonder if—more like _when_—their paths would cross, hers and Chris Redfield's...

Ada knew Piers hadn't come alone. At least, she _hoped_ he hadn't been so foolish. She'd been wrong about who he was here with, assuming Sherry Birkin to be involved, but still. He'd already very obviously confirmed that wasn't the case. Piers wasn't dressed to the nines as in times past (as if it ever seemed to do any good) but he _was_ wearing a BSAA vest.

_Of course_ he'd gone calling on his trusted captain. How the hell Piers had convinced the man to come to this place with him, and on what conditions, Ada would likely never know. She supposed it was something akin to how Piers had _convinced her_ to save him when she first saw him, and again when the virus nearly took control of him. That was how it had happened and she refused to let herself believe anything else. Something about Piers demanded saving—no, it was _survival_. _He_ demanded to survive.

So it was _his_ fault. She had no choice in the matter.

Ada had hardly closed the door to the security office behind her when Piers doubled back to see what was taking her so long. They practically bumped heads, and remained chest-to-chest for a moment, almost dumbstruck.

It was an allowable reaction for Piers but Ada mentally scolded herself.

She attempted to shrug the entire interaction off, still _in-progress_ or not. "Impatient much?" She tried to back away but had nowhere to go, unless she opened the door and retreated into the security room.

That was not going to happen.

Piers raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, considering what we just saw—"

Ada couldn't _retreat_, so she would force _him_ to make a move. She leaned forward just a bit, closing what little space remained, and needing to do little more than whisper, asked, "Then shall we?"

* * *

No sign of Jake, Piers, or Leon. It really hadn't been that long though it felt like forever to Sherry. She couldn't imagine what Chris was going through. He wore his mask well. Eyes forward, shotgun at the ready, leading the way and looking like he was ready for anything. Then again, he _looked_ that way in China, too. He'd been ready to face anything the enemy could throw at him, but he never considered the idea that he might still be leaving without Piers.

To have it happen twice, and in such a short span of time...

Clearly, Piers had made it out of China alright, made it back to the U.S. alright. He and Chris had even found each other alright. Something still didn't seem right, though. Well, a lot of things about all of this weren't _right_.

They continued on quietly. The area they were currently investigating seemed to be square-shaped—they'd traveled two straight hallways that turned 90 degrees to the left once they reached the end, at least. They peeked into rooms that looked suspiciously like prison cells as they made their way forward. Nobody home so far. Until...

"Did you hear that?" It was Helena who broke the uneasy silence.

"Someone's coming," Chris said, his voice low and rough.

They all listened. It sounded like footsteps and yet, it didn't.

"Guards?" Sherry whispered her guess.

"Could be. Whatever they are, we haven't got time for 'em," was Chris's declaration as he tightened his grip on his shotgun and headed around the corner.

Helena and Sherry shook their heads, shared a sympathetic look, and jogged around the corner behind him.

"What is... he... _it_?" Sherry asked.

Chris offered only one word in response. _"Infected."_

Sherry tentatively categorized the... well, he'd been a man at one point, that was made even more obvious by the fact that he was _naked_ now, as a J'avo. He was moving awfully slowly, and hadn't tried to attack yet.

A big, dark, tumor-like mass stuck out oddly from the left side of his neck. Another growth sat atop his left hand. The veins leading to both protrusions were thicker and more prominent than they should've been, and whatever his blood had become, it was now very, very dark.

"You've both been around long enough to know what needs to be done. Let's just take him down and move on," Chris ordered.

"_...Take... him... down—"_

Sherry gasped a little, despite herself. Helena had done it, too. Even Chris seemed to have been taken aback by the BOW's speech. They'd all heard J'avo talk before, but not like this. It was _copying_ Chris.

"That's the plan, asshole," Chris muttered.

Clearly, he'd gotten over his shock quicker than Sherry or Helena.

The creature cocked its head to the side, giving Chris, or anyone who was so inclined, a prime shot at the bulb-like growth on its neck. Chris was so inclined, having since determined that was likely the BOW's weak spot. A shotgun blast easily ruptured the tumor and a spray of syrupy, black blood decorated the walls on both sides of the hallway.

The BOW stumbled back a couple of steps. Helena and Sherry both moved up to fire at it. Their bullets were hitting the mark, the creature oozing blood from each new wound, but it wasn't doing more than forcing the thing back a couple of feet at a time.

"There's another one down on the hand!" Sherry called out.

"I see it. I just need him to give me a clean shot at it," Helena replied.

"I got it. Just keep at it," Chris said, moving to the side.

He slung the shotgun over his shoulder and worked to get behind the BOW. Another hit to the gut—Chris couldn't tell who'd fired the shot—but it was distraction enough, and he grabbed at the creature, wrapped his right arm around the its head and neck, hoping to immobilize it long enough that he could use his other arm to force _it_ to straighten _its_ other arm and give Sherry or Helena a better chance at hitting its weak spot.

It worked, and Helena landed a shot to the top of the creature's hand—either a really good shot, or a really lucky shot. Whatever it was, the BOW withered in Chris's grasp, and fell to the floor in a heap once Chris realized he could let it go.

He stepped past it, looking down at his tar-stained uniform and groaning over it as he did. He nodded at Helena and offered a simple, "Nice shot."

She assumed it was quite the compliment coming from Chris and did her best to humbly accept it. "Thanks."

Chris was back in front, with Helena right behind him, and Sherry at the rear. They'd hardly heard the hiss in time to do more than turn around. The BOW sprang upright, exhibiting far more speed than it had cared to show a few minutes ago. A new hand... like appendage grew in to replace the one Helena'd pretty much blown off, followed almost immediately by whatever that was that had just grown out of its neck, loudly snapping it in the process. Thicker than a tentacle, though it certainly couldn't be counted as another arm. _Those_, however, _were_ tentacles, growing from its chest and belly—seemingly sprouting out from every bullet wound that had been inflicted during the previous battle.

"Guess he wants a rematch," Helena muttered, raising her gun.

Chris reached for his shotgun. "Then that's what he's gonna get."

Sherry nodded her agreement. What else was there to do? It wasn't looking like they had any choice but to fight.

* * *

**A/N: Naughty Ada, not telling Piers she saw Chris on one of those monitors...**

**I thought it'd be creepy if one of the things my barely-original BOWs did was mimic speech and that the words they chose to mimic were a hint that they wanted to be killed... Following conversation, only acting defensively, seeming to understand what was going on, to a certain degree. It's similar to how several existing RE monsters (J'avo, Deborah Harper, even Scagdead from Revelations) behave but not exactly the same. I tried to distinguish the similarities from the differences. No telling if I pulled it off or not.**

**I kinda like the idea of an enemy where the strength of its **_**second**_** form is based on how much damage one did to its first form before figuring out how to drop it. In the case of Chris, Sherry, and Helena, they unloaded more into their guy than Leon and Jake...**

**It's honestly really hard to come up with shit that meshes with what's already been done in the RE-verse but hasn't been done to death. XD I'm guessing they've sort of reached that point, officially, too, considering Dino Simmons and all...**

**It will not die. I won't let it. Dino Simmons forever.**


End file.
